Illumination
by Super Chocolate Bear
Summary: The TARDIS pulls the Doctor to a ship where a team of explorers have made an astonishing discovery - one that contains surroundings that are hauntingly familiar, and a horror from the distant past…
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_(A/N: This story takes place between 'The Angels Take Manhattan' and 'The Snowmen')_

_**Illumination**_

_**Prologue**_

Colonel John 'Johnny' Net threw the ball, enjoying the rhythmic noise it made as it batted against the wall, the floor and then back to his hand. His chair squeaked as he swivelled a little from left to right, doing his best to push aside the boredom that was creeping up on him.

He looked idly over at Colette, who was operating the tractor beam with the two joysticks that she had years ago insisted be installed. And, to her credit, she was incredibly accurate with them, so Johnny couldn't complain.

"How we doin', Colette?"

"Doing fine, _sir_," she mumbled, concentration very much on the delicate procedure at hand.

"Now, see, the sarcastic emphasis on 'sir'? Just not necessary." He pointed a finger at Michelle, who was monitoring what was going on in the cargo bay at the station next to him. "Michelle, take a note. Sarcasm from subordinates is not necessary."

Without taking her eyes off the screen, Michelle replied with her usual cowboy drawl, "Sarcasm, yes sir."

Eyes thinning, he looked at Michelle. "Are you now, after what I said about sarcasm, _being _sarcastic?"

In the middle of adjusting settings via the touch-screen, Michelle's hand froze. "I choose not to reply, sir, as answering would incriminate myself."

Johnny nodded. "Nicely done."

"Speaking of done…" Colette added quietly.

Pushing off from the wall, Johnny rolled his chair across the control centre, coming to a stop beside Colette's station. Aware for many years that she had issues about personal space, Johnny made a very distinct point of violating said space whenever possible. Not in a perverse way, just in a 'Johnny likes to irritate people' way.

What the hell, this was his last mission. Sweet, sweet retirement awaited. Pretty soon it would be young Michelle who would be dealing with lovely, pleasant Colette. Though Colette was lovely and pleasant enough in the privacy of his quarters, so-

"What've you been eating, boss?" Colette grimaced. "Smells like a-"

"Hey, whoa, it's just the curry that was on the menu. You had it too."

"Well, my breath doesn't smell like a cow's rear end, so you must have had something extra."

Bemused, Johnny looked over at Michelle, who had since walked over to look at the monitor. While she and Colette checked over the object they had dragged into the cargo bay, Johnny surreptitiously cupped his hand over his mouth and checked his breath.

Actually, that _was _pretty bad.

"Anyone got a mint?" he mumbled, though neither of his subordinates were listening to him. Their focus was entirely on the hexagonal object in the cargo bay which had been 'Emitting low-level temporal distortions in its immediate vicinity'.

Or so Vicky, their resident temporal mechanic, had said. Johnny was a bit concerned that those temporal distortions would affect them or the ship, but Vicky had assured him that the effects were limited to the hexagon-thing itself. And the effects were minor anyway. Assuming he wouldn't like the answer, Johnny had stopped himself from asking what those 'minor' effects would be.

"_I'm hungry."_

It was David, who was now closely inspecting the object that had been laid to rest in the cargo bay through Colette's expert tractor beam control.

Sighing, Johnny pressed the comm button. "Did you miss lunch _again?"_

"_Not this time, I swear," he said defensively. "But as soon as I came near this thing, I got hungry."_

Johnny, Michelle and Colette exchanged a look before simultaneously asking, "Vicky?"

There was a pause before the sweet voice came back. _"Yes?"_

She was off-screen somewhere, probably monitoring readings on the control panel out of shot of the security camera.

"Could this be one of those _minor_ temporal effects you were talking about?"

"_Maybe." _

"And by that you mean…"

"…_yes."_

Johnny sat back in his squeaky chair and groaned.

"_But!" _Vicky interrupted. _"Nothing hazardous. It just moved David's digestive tract a little further forward in time than the rest of him."_

Michelle let out a low growl equivalent to 'ew'. "That sounds… disgusting."

"_Uh…" _David cleared his throat. _"Not to turn conversation away from my digestive tract, but, uh… there's something weird about this thing."_

"Well, yeah, it has the power to make you hungry," Colette said, resting her head on her hand.

"_No, I mean… I can see inside. There's a window, see?"_ Looking back to the camera, David stepped aside, pointing to the middle point of the hexagon.

All three of them jostled for space as they peered in. There was indeed a viewport looking inside the pod.

After a couple of moments, Johnny became aware of his mouth hanging open. "…huh."

"_Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction," _David deadpanned.

"Hey, I'm retiring, be nice." He shuffled about on his chair, adjusting the top of his jumpsuit. "What's weird about it having a window? It's a one-man escape pod, right? Escaping people… like a view."

"We only know that it's the _size _of a one-man escape pod," Colette pointed out. "Doesn't mean that's what it is."

Shrugging, Johnny nodded his head from side to side. "Okay, fair enough. So what's weird about it?"

"_It's, uh… well… there's a big room."_

"What? Where?"

"_In the pod."_

"There's- _what?"_

David sighed. _"Okay, let me take you through the sequence of events. There's a window. Through said window I can see a big room. A chamber, really."_

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, staring in utter befuddlement at the screen.

Michelle was the first to recover. "A chamber… _inside _the pod?"

"_That's right."_

"But…" Colette blinked and shook her head. "I've got the readings here. It's the size of a one-man pod."

"_Yes," _David allowed in a vaguely patronising tone, _"but I've got the readings from my eyes. And they're saying, well…"_

The sound vanished, and they all waited impatiently. Johnny reached forward and tapped the comm button.

"David? Hello?"

"_Yes, I'm here, I just… this is weird, okay? I'm not sure how to say it."_

"How complicated can it be?" Colette grumbled.

"_Not complicated, Colette, thanks," _David shot back._ "Just… weird. I mean, look, it sounds impossible, but…"_

In a moment of synchronicity that served to emphasise that Michelle was the perfect replacement for Johnny, they groaned and yelled at the screen.

"What?!"

David looked off-screen, presumably at Vicky. Taking a long breath and adjusting his glasses, David looked directly at the screen.

"…_it's bigger on the inside."_

For the longest time, nobody said anything. Then, Johnny broke the silence with the only appropriate thing he could think to say.

"Neat."


	2. Hitting the Wall

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Illumination**_

_**Chapter One: Hitting the Wall**_

Chyt'lok smiled as he prepared the final sequence that would eliminate the entire water supply of the colony below. 'Peaceful settlers'. Bah. Weaklings was more like it.

He had plans for that planet, and he had no patience to watch them slowly evacuate. And _then _they had sent him a message saying they had no intention of leaving. Well, this would put and end to their insolence.

Why couldn't these people understand? He was a messenger of the mighty C'thah. It wasn't _his _choice, but the when the almighty needed something done, he was His emissary, His messenger, His…

What was that noise?

A horrible grinding noise that echoed all around the dark chamber that was his control centre. The wind that kicked up forced him to pull his hood closer over his pale yellow skinned head. He hated the cold. Frustrated, Chyt'lok looked around, unable to locate the source of the sound.

Then, looking to the other side of the floating circular control panel that sat in the middle of the chamber, he saw it. A blue box, fading into existence from nothingness. White light blared out from the top of the box, and Chyt'lok brought up a clawed hand to shield his sensitive eyes.

With a low thud, the grinding stopped. The door opened, creaking as it went.

And then, there _he _was.

Pointing in abject rage, Chyt'lok bellowed, "_You!"_

"Yes, me, hello," the Doctor replied, sauntering in like there was nothing to fear. He was carrying a rustling white bag made of a material Chyt'lok couldn't place.

"You should be dead!"

"You know, I've heard that so many times before it's just white noise now."

Squaring his shoulders, Chyt'lok looked down at the intruder. "You cannot stop me. The process is almost complete."

"Ah, yes, well," the Doctor said quickly, putting a finger in the air. "You _say _I can't stop you, and ordinarily, I would agree with you. You're bigger than me, so not much chance of beating you in thumb-wrestling, and more importantly, I didn't recognise your technology or species. At first. Then I did some research and popped to Tesco's to pick up some stuff."

He lifted the rustling bag and jiggled it about, emphasising the red lettering printed on it.

"Other supermarkets are available," he mumbled, diving a hand into the bag.

Chyt'lok didn't bother to brace himself. This prattling moron hadn't shown himself to be physically adept in any way in their previous two encounters. Quite the opposite, in fact. His limbs always seemed to at odds with what his brain wanted them to do.

Quickly, and with a look of satisfaction that indicated Chyt'lok should be frightened, the Doctor pulled out a bottle of white liquid and a solid cube of… something yellow, a slightly darker hue than his own skin.

"Am I supposed to be impressed or scared?"

"Well, that depends on whether you know what I've got," the Doctor replied, sounding very pleased with himself.

Chyt'lok didn't reply. He just raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Clearing his throat, the Doctor seemed ready to launch into a speech. But then his blue box made another groaning noise, and, with a look of genuine surprise, the Doctor looked back.

"What? _Now?"_

The box groaned again, and the Doctor glared back at it.

"Oh, so I'll just skip the speech about how brilliant I am, shall I? You _know _that's the best part of my day. Blimey…" Looking incredibly irritated, he turned his attention back to Chyt'lok before rolling his eyes. "I did some research, found out that lactose is poisonous to your species, I've got some milk and cheese, stop your plan, or I'll melt you."

What little colour Chyt'lok had in his cheeks drained away. "You're bluffing."

"I'm not, and my TARDIS is leaving without me, so quickly please, yes or no!"

Clenching his jaw, Chyt'lok charged at the Doctor and roared, "NEVER!"

The Doctor sighed. "Fine."

He unscrewed the blue lid on the bottle and tossed the white liquid over Chyt'lok. The searing pain hit him across his legs. They melted away beneath him in the space of a few moments, and he fell to the floor, screaming.

"Oh, calm down, they'll grow back in a month." He put the lid back on the bottle and gently placed it down beside the doors of his blue box. "Waste not, want not, that's worth ten cups of tea."

Paralysed by the pain, Chyt'lok could only watch as the Doctor tossed the yellow brick into the air and caught it, a hand in his pocket as he walked over to the control panel into the middle of the room.

"Now to do to your systems what Rory did to the console-" He caught himself mid-sentence, and in a split second, the strength seemed to drain from his body. He sighed, and, with none of the vigour he had displayed in their previous encounters, he unwrapped the yellow block from its see-through protective covering.

Holding it in his hand, he crushed it, crumbling the chunks all over the control panel. Then, with a violent movement that, even in his shocked state, surprised Chyt'lok, the Doctor slammed his fist down, mashing the majority of the substance into the control panel.

A horrible whine built up from the panel, and, as the Doctor wearily trudged back to his box, sparks flew. The chain reaction built until explosions began to litter the panel, eventually spreading to the rest of the chamber.

The Doctor stood over him for a moment, and then squatted down beside him. "Don't try this again, please. I'm getting tired of dealing with these things."

He moved in closer to Chyt'lok.

"They're losing their lustre," he growled, his voice darkening along with his features.

Chyt'lok felt a deadly fear gripping him as the Doctor slowly stood up, picked up his bottle of toxic liquid, and walked into the box. He slammed the door behind him.

The loud groaning noise from the Doctor's vessel merged with the explosions growing around Chyt'lok. Relief flooded through him as the box faded from sight. He had seen many terrible things in his life. Done horrible deeds in the service of his almighty Lord.

But there was something in the Doctor's eyes when he had spoken to him. Something full of pain and rage.

And it was something he never wanted to see again.

* * *

The milk bottle felt much heavier than it should have. He opened up the fridge Amy insisted they put under the stairs that led up to the TARDIS console and popped the milk inside. He did his best to ignore the half-eaten yoghurt Rory had left there before heading out to their Central Park picnic.

Because of the state of temporal grace in which the inside of the TARDIS existed, the fridge preserved things pretty much forever. Didn't stop bullets, but excellent for keeping yoghurt from turning.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the Doctor had a constant reminder of his missing friends living underneath the TARDIS console. Whatever, he could deal with it. He had dealt with it before. Didn't feel different this time at all.

Nope. Not a bit.

He sighed and jogged up the steps to the console, hoping it would give him some more energy.

It didn't work.

"All right then, what's all this 'leaving without me' business?" he asked, doing his best 'scolding parent' impression. He felt dirty just attempting it. "And where are you taking me, anyway?"

The Doctor attempted to look at the destination screen suspended above his head, but found the text distressingly blurry. Hesitantly, he reached into his jacket pocket and fished out the one reminder of Amy he constantly had on him. He delicately slipped on the glasses, squinting as his eyes adjusted.

He sighed. In the space of a couple hundred years, he'd gone from wearing brainy specs to look clever to actually _needing _glasses. Getting old was horrible.

Switching his mind to more immediate matters, the Doctor focused on what the screen was telling him.

"The 51st century? Why are we going _there_?" He glared at the time rotor. "Is this River? This reeks of River. Not that River reeks. I actually think she smells quite nice. Like lavender and strawberries…"

As was the norm with him, he drifted off into other, more pleasant memories before blinking and snapping himself back to reality.

"No, not River. She would have somehow sent a message blaring across all of time and space saying 'Hello sweetie'. And even she doesn't have the knowledge to pull you across time and space."

He put his hands on his hips, feeling huffy. "And incidentally, when did _you _start taking _me _places? Honestly, this sort of behaviour completely shatters the illusion of independence you've been building up around me for the past… thousand-ish years."

There was no reply. Not that he was expecting one. But sometimes he really, really, hoped. The Doctor removed his glasses, and, with lead in his boots, strolled over to the chair beside the console and collapsed into it.

"I don't want to go to the 51st century," he said quietly, rubbing his eyes with the glasses folded up in his hands. He sighed. "I don't want to go _anywhere_…"

With a faint smile, he looked up at the churning time rotor. "Maybe that's what this is all about, eh? Taking me on another adventure to wake me up. But I've been _trying_, old girl, I really have. I just don't… _feel it _anymore."

Unable to resist the mystery, the Doctor groaned, slipped on his glasses and sprang up from the chair. He checked the co-ordinates again, and then moved on to the navigation instruments, fiddling with odd levers and buttons.

"That _has _to be it, doesn't it? This is you cheering me up. I mean, the only other instances of you taking me places were…"

He froze, and stared up at the screen again.

"…Time Lord-y things…"

The TARDIS landed, and he clung on to the console as the room jolted around him. He checked the scanner, taking a breathless look outside.

A corridor. Of course it was a corridor. This was him. Where else would he land but a corridor? That way he could literally hit the ground running. But, crucially, it didn't look like a Time Lord corridor. No roundels, no people in robes and funny hats. Just a grey, metallic corridor.

Maybe the TARDIS had made a mistake. Maybe there was something else here. A surprise birthday party thrown by River. Yes, that's it. So she didn't know when his birthday was, so what? That wouldn't stop a girl like River. She had colluded with the TARDIS to get him here. Yes, he was convinced.

So really, he should just let go of the console and head out into the unknown. Like he always did. As he had always done.

Yep. Just… step out the door.

Easy.

With a frustrated groan, the Doctor pushed off from the console and stormed to the doors.

"This had better be important," he warned, pointing an accusing finger back at the time rotor.

The Doctor yanked open the doors and poked his head out. He sighed. The TARDIS had managed to materialise with the doorway pressed against the corridor wall. Slipping his glasses back into his jacket pocket, the Doctor awkwardly fumbled his way out, squashing his face against the cool metal as he shuffled along.

Finally, he ejected out into the corridor, stumbling along with arms flailing before managing to come to a halt. He shook his head, letting his cheeks wobble about a bit before straightening the lapels of his jacket and taking in his surroundings.

So. A corridor. Big metal corridor. Hello, corridor. How are you today?

There was a low level hum all around him. Dropping down, the Doctor pressed his ear to the floor. Engines. So, a corridor in a ship. Lovely.

With a spring in his step he wasn't really feeling, the Doctor jumped to his feet and dusted off his hands before deciding on a direction. Whirling on the spot with a finger pointing, the Doctor span a couple of times before finally coming to face the TARDIS again. And he was honestly very tempted to just step back inside and leave… whatever this ship was behind.

After a moment of indecision, he decided on the opposite direction. If he took the TARDIS away now, he'd never hear the end of it. And, considering the TARDIS couldn't verbalise its annoyance, it would find other more troubling ways to make its displeasure known.

He set off, walking at a leisurely pace and idly inspecting the random bits of machinery and cabling that ran along the walls and ceiling. The Doctor quietly whistled a vague tune he couldn't quite remember as he ran the tips of his fingers along one of the thick power cables. Not a hint of dust. Well maintained, wonderfully lit, sleek, organised…

Whoever ran this ship had to be stopped.

Reaching the end of the corridor, the Doctor was left at a crossroads. Left, or right? There was a door in front of him, but he was wary of setting off any alarms.

He frowned. Hang on, _what?_

With an amused snort, he pressed the button beside the door. Within a couple of seconds, the door opened, revealing a lift. It also revealed two armed soldiers, rifles pointed directly at his head. One was a tall woman with a sturdy jaw line and shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. The other was big, bald, and had a small circular tattoo imprinted on the side of his head, above his right ear.

The Doctor smiled, like he was meeting guests at a party. "Hello! Lovely to meet you. Thought I was on a ghost ship for a minute there, which is a very real possibility with me. Not as scary as you imagine they would be. Usually they just died thinking about some horrible stain they left in the kitchen and can't bear to leave until it's gone. Clean it up, and off they go."

They glanced at each other, and after an almost imperceptible nod, they lowered their guns. With a cowboy drawl, the woman said, "We've been expectin' you."

He blinked, surprised. "Yes! Right. Of course you… have? Sorry, I'm not used to people recognising me these days. I'm not the celebrity I used to be. I'm the Doctor."

"Yeah, I know. But, uh, no-one seems to know this: Doctor what?"

"Ah, yes, well, that's…" He frowned. "Actually, that's not the question I'm used to. 'Doctor What' just sounds disappointing. Honestly," he scolded, shaking his head at the confused guard.

Evidently at a loss for words (the Doctor always enjoyed that reaction), the woman brought up her wrist communicator and spoke into it.

"Colonel, this is Michelle. I'm with Tim. Got the intruder down here with the… box. It's the Doctor."

"_A Doctor?"_

The Time Lord tutted and rolled his eyes. "No, _the _Doctor. I've got it on good authority that I'm the definitive article."

Everybody was quiet for a moment.

"_Is that him?"_

Michelle nodded. "Uh, yeah. Sir. What would you like us to do with him?"

"_Don't know… not sure if I like him yet."_

"Sir?"

"_Is he armed?"_

"Well, the automatic security scan when he stepped out of his… box… says no."

"_Okay. Scan him over manually. If he's clean, bring him to the bridge. Professor's lookin' forward to meetin' him."_

"Yes, sir."

There was an audible sigh from the other side. _"Michelle?"_

"Sir?"

"_You know we're the same rank, right?"_

"…yes, sir."

"_And yet you're calling me sir."_

"Yes, s… uh, John."

"_Better."_

With that, John cut the radio. The Doctor smiled. He was willing to venture the opinion that he would like John. Even if he was in the military.

Perturbed, Michelle gestured with her rifle for the Doctor to get in the lift. He did so, but was abruptly stopped by Tim's rifle shoved in his face.

"Hands in the air," he rumbled, his voice practically sending vibrations through the floor.

"Yes, of course," the Doctor replied absent-mindedly, his eyes studying the lift as he entered with hands raised. The doors closed behind them, but they didn't go anywhere. He was sort of preoccupied with the thought that somebody was expecting him. People didn't really expect him anymore.

He watched with idle curiosity as Michelle pulled out a small red device the size and shape of his old blue sonic screwdriver and, after pressing a button with his thumb, ran it up and down the Doctor's body. There was a low crackle like a Geiger counter as it moved up and down. There was a squeal when it reached the part of his jacket where his sonic screwdriver was tucked away.

Tim's heavy grip latched onto his shoulders, physically lifting him off the ground while Michelle went through his pockets.

"Oh, now, this isn't necessary, it's just my sonic screwdriver," he managed, his voice ever so slightly strangled by being held in the air in such an awkward way.

"So it is," Michelle replied, pulling out the offending device and showing it to Tim.

The Doctor looked down at Tim with a smile that asked 'Satisfied?' without him even having to speak. Though he didn't seem pleased, Tim was evidently satisfied, as he immediately let the Doctor's feet touch the floor again.

Huffily snatching the screwdriver from Michelle, the Doctor flicked it on and waved it around in Tim's face.

"And people think _I'm _rude," he muttered, glaring up at Tim's blank eyes.

With the barest hint of a smile, Michelle punched the lift controls with the side of her fist. There was the barest of jolts as the lift ascended. The Doctor barely had time to put his screwdriver away before they came to a halt.

As the doors opened, the Doctor, hands behind his back, glanced between his two guards.

"May I ask, actually, where am I?"

Both Michelle and Tim frowned at him incredulously, the former nodding for him to walk ahead of them onto the bridge. It was a pretty cramped room for a command centre. Low ceilings, a narrow viewport at the front barely giving any idea of the magnificence of space outside… bit of a waste, really. But then, he only had two narrow doors and an old Magpie TV to show him what was outside, so the Doctor couldn't really talk.

"How the hell did you get on this ship and not know where you were?" Michelle asked.

"Bad eyes," he replied. "Only found out recently that I need glasses. Can you believe it? Me, actually _needing_ glasses. Imagine."

"Well, I don't _know _you, so… yeah, I can imagine."

Suddenly the Doctor felt quite lonely. "Fair enough." He cleared his throat, wiggled his shoulders about and got back to business. "But I feel we've strayed a little from the point here, which happens a lot to me, believe it or not. So, yeah, where am I?"

A man with a lazy walk, white hair and arms like tree-trunks answered his question. "You're on the _Chronos. _Private ship, owned by Professor Evan Locke, that happy gent over there."

He turned on the spot and pointed a finger at a man sat in a hovering chair. There was a slew of equipment attached to the back that seemed to link via half a dozen or so tubes into the man's chest. He was involved in a conversation with a young girl who had her back to the Doctor - they seemed to be discussing something that was on an interactive pad.

"And you're John," the Doctor asked unsurely, pointing a cautious finger at the hulk in front of him.

"Johnny, please," he replied, snatching the Doctor's outstretched hand and giving it a solid pump.

"Pleased to meet you, Johnny. I'm the Doctor."

"Yeah, I heard." Wincing as if he felt rude bringing it up, Johnny leant forward with arms folded. "Okay, sorry to say this, but… this is kind of my ship, and you _are_ trespassing a little bit… I mean, reputation aside, it's kind of rude."

The Doctor sighed. "Yes, sorry, I do that. My ship has a mind of its own sometimes. I'm sure you can relate."

"That I can."

Smiling, the Doctor rocked back and forth on his heels. "Now, see, this is lovely. Why can't all encounters I have with the military be like this?"

This gave Johnny pause, and he looked at the Doctor askance. "You… 'encounter' the military often?"

Raising a finger, the Doctor struggled with a regrettable case of word salad for a moment. "Well, yes, I can see how that could sound bad, but I, that is, you, um… so, Professor Evan Locke, looks delightful, I'll go and say hello, shall I?"

Whirling around Johnny like an expert dancer, the Doctor glided across the bridge before sliding to a halt between the Professor and his assistant. The assistant, a girl with chin length blonde hair, let out a little yelp. The Doctor, alarmed, checked behind him.

"What, what is it?"

The girl patted her chest. "Nothing, sorry, God… you just startled me."

"Ah, yes, sorry, I do have a habit of appearing out of nowhere sometimes. I'm the Doctor, you are?"

"Uh…" She looked first at his hand, and then over to Johnny, then Professor Locke. Evidently getting approval from both, she cautiously took his hand and shook it. "Vicky."

"Vicky, lovely. I used to have a friend called Victoria. Lovely girl, screamed a lot."

"… I see."

"She's fine now, though. She's living with her family. Sort of."

Smiling happily, the Doctor moved onto Professor Locke, who was staring up at him with a fascinated look, as though he were beholding some marvellous exhibit. Not that the Doctor could blame him. He did make a bit of a show of himself sometimes.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor."

With a little cough, Professor Locke brought up his hand and shook the Doctor's. "And I'm the Professor."

"Yes, I heard, a man of education! Big fan of education. Well done!" Ducking down, the Doctor took a closer look at the equipment attached to the back of Locke's chair. He didn't need to put on his glasses to get an idea of how it worked. "Life support, eh? What's the problem? I'm a Doctor, you know."

"Well, I _am _veryold."

The Doctor snorted a laugh. " Of course you are. Bless," he said amusedly, looking at Vicky to share the humour.

And, once again, he was reminded that he was by himself when it came to inside jokes, and his smile disappeared. "Right, that was horrible. Yes, of course you're old. Sorry, I have a very… inappropriate sense of humour. I laugh at people slipping on banana peels and hitting each other on the head with frying pans… disgusting."

He shuddered theatrically before blinking and turning his attention to Locke. "So, looking at the equipment, I'm guessing _not _for old age, so what _is _the problem?"

The Professor shook his head good-naturedly. "Not something that can be helped, I'm afraid. I've got what's called 'the Devil's Pull'."

This dampened the Doctor's mood somewhat. He knew the disease. It was a by-product of exposure to creatures that had waged a war against the rest of the universe in the early 51st century. There were many names for them, but most settled for calling them 'The Most Horrible Creatures Imaginable'. Not exactly catchy, but it was certainly accurate.

Suddenly sombre, the Doctor quietly said, "I'm sorry."

"Can't be helped," Locke dismissed, waving his hand. "Caught it after the war with those… creatures. I've long since learned to live with it. And I make up for it by travelling through time and space, learning and even helping where I can. Hence the name of the ship. _Chronos_. The god of time."

Caught off-guard, the Doctor frowned. "A god of time travelling around exploring and helping, I've heard that one somewhere before… Though I can't help but notice you've got armed help."

"Yes, well… you never know what you're going to come up against."

"But still," he squirmed. "Guns. Never _really_ necessary, are they?"

Johnny cleared his throat from the other side of the bridge. "Not sure I agree with that."

"I'm just _saying_," the Doctor said with finality, "they're not _necessary_." He smiled. "In my opinion."

Looking unimpressed, Johnny wandered back to his chair and sat down, though the Doctor was still aware that he was keeping an eye on him as he spoke to the Professor.

"So. You were… expecting me?"

"That I was."

"And how do you know me, exactly?"

The Professor smiled, punching something into an idle monitor beside him. "You don't travel in time and space without coming across some stories about the Doctor. Besides which, we've got records."

Peering over with glasses perched on his nose, the Doctor frowned. A record of him. A record the Doctor distinctly remembered erasing. "You shouldn't have that."

"Well, it's my computer, so…"

"No, I mean… all records of me are gone. I saw to that."

"Well," Vicky ventured, clearing her throat, "we're… outside of time most of the… time. We must have missed the, uh… erasure in the shuffle."

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, that makes sense," he said, pulling out the sonic screwdriver and aiming it at the screen. Pressing the button, he transmitted the audio-virus he had specially prepared for any computers that had somehow missed his mass deleting spree.

The record of him promptly winked out before the Professor's amazed eyes.

"There," the Doctor smiled, slipping away the screwdriver, "all done."

"You-" Tapping away on the computer, Locke was shortly joined by Vicky, who attempted to help. They both came away stumped. "You're gone."

"That's the idea," he muttered, taking off his glasses. "So! You were expecting me. And this is sort of the middle of nowhere, seems a little boring to go to all the trouble of yanking my TARDIS across time and space."

"You have a TARDIS?" Locke marvelled. "I've never even seen a TARDIS, inside or out… that's the box down in the corridor, isn't it?"

"You're not getting in."

"No," the Professor sighed, "of course not. That's not what I'm interested in."

"…you're not?"

"Well, _yes_, I am, but you're notoriously protective of it. And I'm not stupid. You'll have booby-traps and defence mechanisms all over the place if I force you."

The Doctor tried not to show how good an idea that was and how irritated he was that he hadn't thought of it first. _"_Yes… lots of… booby-traps and defences, and… temporal grace… things." He blinked, snapping himself out of it. "But! We're swerving very dangerously off the road, so, I'm here, you were expecting me, why and how, please."

Locke smiled, seemingly amused at his verbal swerving. "The 'why' is down below in the cargo bay. The 'how' wasn't anything to do with us."

Adjusting the controls on the armrest of his chair, Locke floated across the bridge to a series of monitors. Hands behind his back, the Doctor sauntered over, his ever-present curiosity keeping his eyes locked on the screens. They displayed an image of what looked like a cargo bay, with a man with small glasses inspecting the object in the middle of the bay. The Doctor slipped on his own glasses to get a better look. And he instantly wished he hadn't.

"Found it drifting in space, emitting low level temporal distortions. Not sure what it is,_" _Locke said, "but it seems distinctly… Time Lord, don't you think?"

The Doctor had his eyes locked on the monitor for a good ten seconds before he realised that Locke had finished speaking. Wary, he turned his head to look at the good Professor. He had a hungry look in his eyes that the Doctor found disconcerting.

"You recognise it, don't you?"

"Looks like refuse to me. And I'm not very knowledgeable about such things. About anything, really. Stupid old Doctor, that's me. Surviving on luck and… smarter people to help me. I mean I was, effectively a Time Lord… bin man, so, I wouldn't know much of anything, as you can imagine. _But_, in my capacity as a bin man, it's clear that _that _is rubbish. Personally? I'd jettison it back into space. And then, just to remove its - quite frankly, _offensive - _uselessness from the universe, I'd blow it up, dump it in the sun, _whatever. _Just so long as you've destroyed it." He paused, aware that he was getting threateningly intense. He reigned it back a little, adding, quietly, "For being useless."

Slowly smiling, Locke, keeping his eyes on the Doctor, called out, "John, take the Doctor down to the cargo bay."

Jumping up out of his chair, Johnny put a hand in the air. "Not sure if that's a good idea-"

"I agree," the Doctor chipped in.

"_He _knows what it is. We haven't been able to open it." Locke looked him up and down. "See if he can."

Both Johnny and the Doctor glared at Locke, then looked at each other reluctantly. They shrugged simultaneously, and the Doctor was relieved that he could feel some amusement at that shared gesture.

Johnny nodded to Michelle and Tim, who came over and stood on either side of the Doctor. Slowly taking off his glasses, the Doctor looked down at Locke.

"Please," he asked solemnly. "That thing down there is a relic. A very, _very _bad one."

"What is it?" Locke asked, captivated. "What's inside?"

"I don't know."

There was a long moment where all that could be heard was the hum of the engines as Locke studied the Doctor, staring into his eyes in the same way the Doctor did when he was trying to get an idea of what someone else was thinking. The Doctor just stared right back, making his expression as blank as possible.

"Take him down to the cargo bay," Locke ordered slowly.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and the Doctor sighed.

"All right, Tim, I'm going. No need for any of that."

"Quite," he said, the rumble of his voice moving through his hand and into the Doctor's shoulder.

The Doctor shrugged off the giant hand and walked to the lift, flanked by Michelle and Tim. Before the door closed, the last thing he noticed was Locke's smile, a disturbing eagerness in his eyes.

It only took them a few seconds before the doors opened again, taking them into the same corridor where the TARDIS had landed. The Doctor shook his head. The TARDIS bringing him here made sense now. Detecting a like being, it was instantly drawn to it, as the Doctor would be if he suddenly felt a Time Lord presence. Probably took all it had to wait for him to get on board before leaving.

Turning right, they walked a couple of feet down the corridor until they arrived at two large doors on the left. With a hydraulic hiss, they slid open obligingly, revealing the expansive cargo bay he had seen through the monitors on the bridge.

And there, in the middle of the bay, was the object the Doctor wanted more than anything not to go near. The hexagonal shape almost hurt his eyes as he was ushered towards it.

The man with the glasses he had seen earlier looked up from a book he was studying, and took off his spectacles in curiosity as the Doctor walked past.

"Like the glasses," the Doctor mock whispered, waving his fingers around the general area of his eyes.

As they approached the object, the Doctor noticed another armed guard watching over proceedings from a gantry above him. A harsh looking woman with her hair pulled tightly back on her head, she didn't look particularly pleased to see the Doctor. Which was fair enough, because he wasn't particularly pleased to see her.

They arrived at the object.

"Okay, Doc," Michelle said, sounding reluctant. "Let's see what you can do."

The Doctor gave her an unimpressed look before returning his attention to the white hexagon in front of him. He rubbed his hands together like a magician. After a few moments of suspense, he threw his hands out.

"Open, please!" He gave it a couple of seconds. "Nope? Ah well, never mind, I tried. Might as well-"

Making for the door, he groaned when the now familiar pressure of Tim's hand on his shoulder forced him to turn around.

"Maybe you should try the handle, Doc," Michelle suggested. There was indeed a small ridge that could function as a handle.

"Yes, thanks, _Michelle." _He slowly reached for the handle. His fingers were almost touching it…

He stood up abruptly, questioning finger in the air. "Actually, Michelle, hasn't anyone else tried opening it?"

The soldier stared at him. "Yes. It didn't work."

"Ah, right. Okay. Just thought I'd ask." He slowly reached for the handle. His fingers were almost touching it…

He stood up abruptly, questioning finger in the air. "Because, you know, maybe you should try _everyone _else before-"

"Doc, if you don't open that door, I'm gonna shoot you in the ass."

"Ah, yes, a well considered and erudite argument, well done. Did you have some preparation time for that one?" Royally annoyed, the Doctor tugged on his lapels before finally grabbing the handle. He pulled, and the door was easier to open than he had imagined. More like opening the doors to the TARDIS. And inside…

Inside was something the Doctor had been expecting, but sincerely hoping wasn't present. A large chamber, the darkness that had once obscured it blinking away as the roundels on the walls lit up, one by one. And there, in the middle of the chamber was the very thing the Doctor had been dreading. A console with six sides. White, like his TARDIS console in the beginning.

The Doctor heard Michelle calling in what had just happened, and also managed to catch Locke's excited response. A horrible knot grew in his stomach.

"Tim," the Doctor said, eyes locked on the console.

"Yes?"

"Can I tell you something?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment. "Yes."

"My initial feeling when I saw this thing was terror. Abject terror. Now I've opened it, and we're all going to explore inside. Do you want to know how my feelings have changed now?"

There was another pause, and there was hesitation in Tim's voice. "I don't think I do."

"No, I didn't think you would." Looking over his shoulder, the Doctor stared right at him. "They're worse."

* * *

(A/N: More Doctor Who! I've missed writing this strange man, but no stories were forthcoming until I watched the last series, and this just sort of came splurging out (as disgusting as that sounds).

Anyway, reviews please!)


	3. Exploration

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Illumination**_

_**Chapter Two: Exploration**_

Colette was fairly sure she didn't like the Doctor. Not that she was usually a wishy-washy, indecisive person - her opinions solidified pretty quickly - but she was _definitely _sure that she didn't like him. It was probably the news that he disapproved of guns that did it. Sanctimonious hippie.

Said Doctor was hunched over, circling the multi-sided console in the centre of the large grey-white chamber, running his fingers over the controls without actually pressing any buttons. Though Colette kept her small rifle casually pointed in his direction, just in case. The ones who hated guns usually had craftier methods.

Colonel Net (Colette refused to call him Johnny) had come down to lead the team into the… whatever it was while Michelle had gone up to the bridge. Net's logic was that since this was his last mission, he wanted to get as much exciting field work as possible - Michelle was going to be getting plenty soon enough, after all. Colette was glad to have him along. Though she hadn't really shared it with anyone, she was going to miss him.

Said Colonel glanced between the Doctor, David and Vicky, each of whom were engrossed in different areas of the room. David had positioned himself on the opposite side of the console from the Doctor, glancing between his research pad and some inscriptions carved into the buttons. Vicky, meanwhile, kept herself occupied at a console that took up the entirety of one of the walls. There was a corridor on her left, but the brains were too occupied with what was in the control room to want to explore much further.

"…are we having fun, kids?"

The answer from Vicky and David was an unequivocal, "Yes."

The answer from the Doctor was an equally forceful, "No."

Sighing, Net looked at the Doctor. "Problem?"

"Hm?" The Doctor whipped his head up before waving off Net's question and returning to the console. "Oh, nothing. Just that you're meddling in forces beyond your comprehension, and so on and so forth, you're humans, you've heard these things before."

He dove back down beneath the console before they had a chance to respond. Net nodded at Colette for her go around and keep an eye on him. Big round glasses perched on his face, the Doctor was inspecting the underside of the console in great detail, waddling along in a squatting position beneath it. Strangest intruder Colette had ever seen.

"Okay, so aside from Mr Grump, we're all happy?" Net asked. "We're finding interesting things?"

"Oh yeah," Vicky said, nodding with a frantic smile. "I mean… no life signs whatsoever, but yeah… _so _many interesting things."

Colette couldn't help her smile as she watched Net give Tim a vaguely alarmed look.

"Well, that's Vicky happy to a… kind of scary degree," Net observed, turning his attention to their other resident nerd. "David. How're you doing?"

He didn't reply at first, such was his fascination with whatever he had found.

"David?"

"Uh…" Slowly, David dragged his eyes from whatever he was translating and looked over at Net. "Yeah, I uh… I've kind of… there's something…"

Net raised his eyebrows and rotated his hand expectantly.

"Sorry," David said. "It's just… if these inscriptions are correct - and I _really _think they are - this is _definitely _a Time Lord ship."

Everybody stopped to stare at David, Colette included. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the Doctor poking his head out from beneath the console. He seemed to be watching everybody else to check their reactions.

Net slowly reached for his radio. "You get that, Prof?"

There was a reverent intake of breath on the other side. _"I did indeed, John. I did indeed."_

"Well, _I_ think 'Time Lord' sounds officious and boring," the Doctor said, doing his best to look unimpressed, "so I wouldn't get too excited, you're only bound to be disappointed. Although that _would _explain how I was brought here. You lot trying to get in would have set off a beacon that only Time Lord technology is capable of picking up, hence… me. But still boring. In fact, I'd just go right now and put this one down to experience. Captain's log, teatime-ish. Salvage mission failed due to… boringness. Advise that boringness be avoided in the future, now let's all have omelettes."

He cast his gaze around the overwhelmingly silent room. "No?" the Doctor asked quietly. "Sure? Craig says I make a very good omelette."

After a stretched moment where it looked like nobody would ever speak again, the Doctor rolled his eyes.

"All right, never mind, don't say I didn't warn you," he muttered, grumbling to himself as he descended beneath the console again. "Also, I just realised you definitely wouldn't know who Craig is, so he probably isn't a good barometer of how delicious my omelettes are. Sorry."

Colette kept a keen eye on the Doctor's erratic movements, though she had to admit that she didn't know enough about the technology to know if was doing anything dangerous.

An impressed whistle from Vicky's direction brought the Doctor's head back up from beneath the console, and everybody else gave her their attention.

"This is incredible," she muttered, though she seemed to be talking to herself more than anyone else.

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" Net asked.

She smiled back at him. "Sorry. But these schematics are incredible. This place stretches out for miles."

Colette ducked her head down a bit. _"Miles?"_

"Well… yes. I-" Her eyes widened, and she looked back at the schematics on the monitor above her. "Bigger on the inside, _of course_. And if David's right about the Time Lord inscriptions-"

"Which I am," David cut in.

"-which he is," she conceded, laughing and nodding as she pointed at him, "then… Time and Relative Dimensions in Space. This place is a TARDIS."

The Doctor snorted derisively, his voice rising a incredulous octave. "No it-!" his know-it-all expression faded as he noticed everybody looking at him. "…probably isn't…"

An air of suspicion rose in the air as everybody took a bit of a closer look at the motivations of their strange visitor. Vicky, for one, didn't look impressed with somebody contradicting her deductions.

"Not that I'm an expert or anything," the Doctor back-pedalled, "but I would _imagine_ that a, uh… a proper TARDIS would have basic components like a perception filter and a chameleon circuit so as not to draw attention to itself. I vaguely remember reading… somewhere… about Time Lords not liking to interfere, and… so on. Also there wouldn't be a schematic of a TARDIS because the dimensions therein are constantly shifting." Becoming aware of the amazed looks of roughly everybody in the room, the Doctor self-consciously fiddled with a knob on the console.

"But as I said, I'm… not an expert. Think I heard it on QI once."

Squinting and looking at the Doctor askance, Vicky slowly approached him. "Okay, so… in your… clearly 'not an expert' opinion… what is this place?"

He blew out immodestly, looking around like he was God's gift, "I would _guess… _that it's a research facility of some sort."

The words 'research' and 'facility' had the immediate effect of making Vicky glow.

"Of boring things!" the Doctor added. "Research into dull, boring things like… Sundays, and the colour grey! Research into how to make Sundays and grey… duller. And then to somehow… merge them together into… Greyday. Or Sungrey."

It was only at that moment that the Doctor really took in just how excited Vicky was at the prospect of exploring this place, and his resistance seemed to immediately disappear.

"That's," he sighed, "what the Time Lords liked to do…"

Looking a little weary of the Doctor's interruptions, Net shook his head before returning to his attention to Vicky. "Okay, so, schematics. Anything interesting on there?"

Vicky pursed her lips as she looked over the screen. "Well… I think I've located the power source for this place. That might be a good place to start."

"Wunderbar," he said, throwing his hand in the air in mock celebration. Moving like a man happy to have a purpose, Net pointed at David. "David, I'm guessing you still have stuff here you'd like to translate and upload to the ship's computer."

The researcher put his hand over his heart. "You know me better than I know myself."

"Okay, so Tim, you stay with David. Colette, Vicky, Doctor, we're going on a little trip."

"Oh," the Doctor scoffed, waving his hand around dismissively, "I don't think we need to do that. We should just stay here, sit around, swap stories. For example, did you know I wore a fez once?" He frowned. "That sounded more interesting before I said it…"

"We're going, you're going, stop stalling or I'll ask Colette to shoot you in a painful way. And Colette likes shooting people."

She nodded when the Doctor looked back at her for confirmation.

He groaned, waggling an accusing finger at Colette's rifle. "You see, this is why I don't like guns. I've counted ten - _ten! - _different opportunities to escape that I couldn't take because of you people and your…" Descending into a frustrated silence, the Doctor shook his hand around before finally making the shape of a gun with his fingers and making quiet 'pow' noises.

Satisfied, Net grabbed his radio. "Michelle, you git all that info on your end of the line, pardner?"

There was a sigh from the other end. _"Cowboy jokes? Really?"_

"Yeah, well, you're an easy target," Net replied, cutting off the radio with a smile. "Vicky, do you know which way we're going?"

She waved her pad in the air. "Got the schematics right here."

"Then we're off to see the wizard," he announced grandly, extending his hands out in front of him like a ringmaster.

Without waiting for prompting, Vicky was off down the long corridor that stretched out of the control room. Colette nudged the Doctor with her elbow, and, after a pause during which he sighed and took off his glasses, he started moving. With a pleased nod, Net joined alongside Colette, giving her an amused look before putting his attention on the Doctor.

They followed Vicky through a winding set of corridors. At no point were there stairs, which seemed strange and inefficient to Colette. After a couple of minutes of following her, Net looked at the Doctor, his expression subtly altered in a way Colette hadn't seen before.

"So why the mad-on for guns, Doc?" Net asked casually.

"It's just not the way I like to do things," the Doctor announced in an off-hand manner. He was keeping his eyes on his surroundings, taking in every closed door, every nook and cranny of every wall.

"So what _is _the right way?" Colette scoffed. "Tell, me, what do _you _do when you have an enemy you can't sit down and talk to, an enemy who only lives to kill and rape and pillage and-"

He suddenly whirled on his heel, shoving his face very close to hers. "Yes, fine, I've had enemies like that. I've… lost people… to enemies like that. And the easiest thing to do would have been to just… _attack _them. Shoot them, hit them, anything. But there's no _good _way to kill someone. It… lingers on you, it stains you. Forever. And the… ease of it, the way that others go to that solution as _the _solution… _that _is what I have a 'mad-on' about."

Abruptly, the Doctor's face dropped, as though he had given too much away and was afraid of that fact. Averting his gaze, the Doctor raised his eyebrows at the pair of them in a pointed way that said 'satisfied?', after which he skulked off after Vicky, looking vaguely sheepish as he went.

The pair of them watched him go for a moment before setting off at a slow pace after him, unconcerned that he was going to make a run for it.

Unable to accept such a preachy response, she glanced at Net, nodding derisively down the corridor at the Doctor. "Sometimes I can't believe how high-and-mighty these pacifist types get."

Net shrugged, looking down at his rifle. "He had a point."

For a moment, her brain stopped along with her feet. "What?"

Looking as though there was no problem, he nodded. "Yeah, I mean… I've always felt that way. You know how much of my life has been dedicated to blowing holes in people? Had to be done, but… I can tell you, it don't feel great."

With that said, he continued on, oblivious to how much he had just destroyed Colette's impression of him. She had always felt justified in everything she had done during her career as a soldier, and a large part of that was owing to Colonel Net - an incredible fighter, a competent strategist who had seen her through some of the most intense battles of her life…

And he didn't even take pride in what he did. Sometimes unpleasant things had to be done, and Colette was always proud of the fact that she had the constitution to do those things. Things that others were too squeamish to do. It was an aspect of her that her father had never understood.

Vicky's voice (at this point infuriatingly chirpy) echoed down from the other end of the corridor.

"Found the power core!"

Blinking herself out of her confused daze, Colette sped up her pace to catch up to Net, who was by now almost beside the Doctor and Vicky at the big archway of a door at the end of the corridor.

"Shall we go in?" Net asked in a voice akin to the owner of a stately manor.

"Uh, sure…" the technician replied unsurely, looking for some kind of switch to open the doors. "If I can just find the switch for the-"

There was an odd noise halfway between a whirr and an extended beep accompanied by a small green light, and then the door opened. Vicky stepped back in surprise, looking around the archway for whatever trigger she had activated.

"Must have been magic," the Doctor dismissed.

Net looked over at him. "Or a sonic screwdriver."

Incredibly shocked, the Doctor stared at him before realisation struck. "Oh, 51st century, you've got sonic screwdrivers. Visiting the cultures with advanced sciences really takes away from the showmanship…"

Vicky nodded down the exposed corridor. "So could you use some of your showmanship to get us through _that?"_

Looking down the long stretch of corridor that led to the core, Colette had to squint in order to filter out the glare of the crackling force field blocking their way. Blue energy hummed contentedly as the Doctor cautiously approached it.

Holding up a single digit, the Doctor poked it into the field. There was a spark, and the Doctor immediately withdrew his hand, shaking it about as he hissed in pain.

"Careful, that's hot," Net deadpanned.

"So it is, thanks," the Doctor replied with an equally dry tone, sucking on his finger before bringing it up for inspection. "Only a small burn, but the pain was more than you'd normally feel. A lot more. It must attack the pain receptors, increasing the sensitivity. The pain alone would probably knock you out before the field managed to do much damage."

This got a nod of approval from Colette. "Leaves intruders alive to interrogate."

"Yes, I'm sure that was the _first _thing on the Time Lord's minds when they put this together," the Doctor disparaged. Then, after a moment's thought, he sighed. "Actually, it probably was, knowing them."

Vicky gave him a sideways look. "Not that you _do _know them, of course."

"No, of course not, that's supremely silly, I'm a bin-man," he dismissed, whirling on the spot to face a panel on the wall. "But I'm a bin-man who's very good at guessing, and if I've guessed correctly, then…"

He pressed three of the of symbols (which Colette took a mental note of) on the panel simultaneously, and with an affirmative beep, the force field deactivated. It was only when it blinked out of existence that Colette saw that there was another force field behind that one. As that one deactivated, she saw another. By the time they had all switched off, she had counted ten. Ten walls of pure energy that attacked the pain receptors.

She was starting to admire these Time Lords.

Without a word from them, Vicky was off down the corridor, mouth agape as she took in every inch of the place. The Doctor set off at a pace equal to the technician, though he didn't seem to be looking around with _quite _as much enthusiasm. If anything, it was more of a determination, as if he was here for something very specific.

The chamber that housed the power core was very similar in architecture to the control room. White walls with grey roundels, though these stretched up above them to create a towering dome. It was so huge that their every footstep echoed around them. In the centre of the room was a smaller dome - more like a mound, really - of solid white. The surface seemed cracked and worn, like porcelain. A curved line ran across the middle of the mound, giving it the appearance of a closed eye.

There was a single panel growing out beside the mound, the controls looking very similar to those Colette had observed in the control room.

"That's the core?" Net asked, nodding to the mound.

"Must be," Vicky shrugged. "According to the schematics, the power source is in this room, so…"

The Doctor, meanwhile, was circling around the eye-like mound, keeping his hawk-like gaze locked on it as he made a single lap. When that was done, he jumped down onto his front, putting his eye as close as humanly possible to the edge of the dome. Then, cautiously, as though afraid he may get burned, the Doctor pressed his hand up against the surface of its surface. He stroked it as one would an animal.

"Hello there…" He sighed. "This isn't really where you belong, is it? You want to be out there, travelling… anywhere and everywhere, not… crushed in here for… whatever this place is…"

Looking sympathetic, Vicky crouched down next to him. "What do you know about this?"

He sighed, keeping his eyes locked on the mound. "Enough to know that the Time Lords took the very soul of a TARDIS and… pushed it into this _tiny _frame."

"You mean this?" Vicky asked, gesturing the dome, "Or…" She displayed her hands to the heavens to indicate 'everything'.

"The whole thing."

"Not exactly what I would call tiny," Colette said.

"For a TARDIS it is," the Doctor mumbled solemnly, looking at Vicky. "And I have no idea why they would do this. A TARDIS is a sacred thing, you don't just… tear it apart and _use _the bits you like."

Vicky ran a delicate hand over the dome. "Is there any way to help it?"

Colette couldn't help rolling her eyes. When they came back into their normal position, she saw that the Doctor was looking at Vicky with a smile.

"Thank you for asking that," he said quietly. "But there isn't, no. Aside from…" The breath seemed to leave his lungs for a moment as he considered something. "…a mercy killing."

Those words seemed to have an effect on everyone - even Vicky's usually unquenchable inquisitiveness was dampened.

Net broke the silence. "Anything more to learn here?"

Blinking herself away from the Doctor's depressed form, Vicky looked around the room. "Uh, not at the moment, no."

"Okay. Let's… skedaddle, then."

The word in itself seemed to cheer up the Doctor, who jumped to his feet. "'Skedaddle'. Tremendous, lovely. Off we go."

A little surprised by this abrupt burst of energy, Net pointed over his shoulder at the corridor they had just travelled through. Colette allowed the Doctor and Vicky to go through first before following up behind along with Net. She was still reeling a little from the about turn from a man she had been so certain she had known like the back of her hand.

Everybody was silent as they made their way back through the winding corridors. They were about halfway (by Colette's estimate) when Vicky, following her pad, suddenly made a curious high pitched noise. Tapping away on the touch-screen device for a couple of seconds, she then turned on her heel, trying to see past Colette to a door just behind her.

"What is it?" Net asked.

"Another power signature. Very weak…"

Following the signal, she cautiously made her way past Colette with an intensely curious Doctor behind her. The door opened as they approached it, revealing a darkened room inside. There wasn't much light, which instantly put Colette on edge.

Ignoring any protocol that had been established for just this sort of situation, Vicky was the first to enter, with the Doctor practically attached to her. Sharing a frustrated look with Net (who just shrugged), she followed the brain-boxes inside.

Colette was put even more on edge when no lights came on as they walked further into the room. She and Net turned on the flashlights on the end of their rifles. The Doctor reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little pocket flashlight, its yellow hue very distinctive on the walls.

"Where's the power source?" Net asked, his voice sounding very close in the cramped environment.

"Not sure," Vicky said almost to herself.

"I am," the Doctor chimed in. On cue, there was a low hum as several intensely bright blue lights, similar to the glow of the force fields, activated around them. They were coming out of compartments that ran along both sides of the room, lying at an angle.

And in each of them, silhouetted by the bright light, were bodies. Dead ones.

"…is this the crew?" Colette asked quietly, inspecting the pods. She checked around the room when nobody replied.

Vicky was on the opposite side of the room doing much the same as she was.

Net was vaguely inspecting the same control panel from which the Doctor had activated the lights. And the Doctor…

The Doctor was at the tail end of the room, his flashlight intently focused on something on the wall, a stone circle that framed the Doctor's head. It looked like it was made from the same type of stone as the Eye of Harmony, but the design was far more ornate. If David had been here, Colette was sure he would have been left breathless at the intricate and beautiful design. As it was, the Doctor was the only one looking at it, and he was _very _quiet.

"What is it?" she asked. Despite her distaste for the man, her curiosity was getting the better of her.

"It's…" he exhaled, sounding frustrated. "Well, it _looks _like… the Untempered Schism. Or what's left of one."

Now he had Net's attention. "What's an Untempered Schism?"

"It's a gap, a… doorway. Exposes you to the energies of the time vortex. It's what made the Time Lords… well, Time Lords. After centuries of exposure, of course."

"Oh, of course," Net said instantly.

After a quick knowing smile to the Colonel, the Doctor's flashlight travelled upwards, revealing a large symbol carved grandly into the ceiling above the Schism. It looked like a figure of eight, but with a few more lines and swirls flicking off the sides.

"And… what's that?" Net asked.

"That… is the seal of Rassilon," the Doctor breathed. "The first of the Time Lords, the creator of our form of time travel and in the end not a very nice person."

An abrupt bleeping from behind Colette's position drew their attention away. Both she and Net backed away from the pod, once more gripping their rifles tightly.

"I thought they were all dead," Colette said urgently.

"We must have set something off," the Doctor whispered, staring at the pod as it hissed open, steam pouring out.

A man staggered out, only managing a few painful steps before collapsing to the ground in a coughing mess. The Doctor pushed his way past everybody to crouch down beside him. Colette looked over the man as the Doctor spoke to him. He was gaunt and pale, and was wearing robes that once upon a time would have been very grand. As they were, though, they were stained, almost burnt looking.

"You're…" the Doctor seemed to be suffering from dry-mouth, and visibly swallowed before continuing. "Are you all right? Are you… I mean, you _are_. You're a Time Lord."

He tapped a finger against his temple to indicate something, but Colette didn't know what. She hadn't seen someone so torn between elation and terror before.

"I'm not a Time Lord." The man coughed and looked around the room. "Why have you… have you come to help me?"

"Help you? What with? What was this place for? You can tell me, I'm a Time Lord."

At that, the man glared up at him with disgust, shaking off the hand the Doctor had put on his shoulder. "Don't touch me. After what you did to me and my family… you have the…" he coughed. "…gall to suddenly act concerned?"

The Doctor was at a complete loss for words. "What do you mean? I'm not… I just arrived here."

"You… you're not… with them?"

"'Them' who? Them?" he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

"No, not…" a violent hacking cough cut him off.

"What's happened to you? How did… _who _did this?"

"_Your _people," he snarled. "They took me, my family, from our home. Experimented. Subjected us to so many different forms of pain…"

For a long moment, the Doctor didn't seem to have anything to say. Then, his voice low and deliberate, he finally asked, "What for?"

He shook his head breathlessly. "I'm… I don't…" The man blinked and shook his head, wiping feverish sweat from his brow. Then, slowly, he brought his hand back, staring at it intensely.

Colette quickly saw why. It was glowing. Golden energy emanated from his hands, wisping into the air like powder in water. The Doctor's eyes were locked on the man as he brought his other hand up, which was also now glowing. The intense golden light began to spread as the man stumbled to his feet.

The Doctor shot up and backed away, holding his arms out to usher the three of them away from the almost blinding light emanating from the man.

His voice was frantic now, his words becoming more incoherent as the glow intensified. "My family… all of them, I was forced to watch… this happened to them…"

"What're you… you're regenerating, you'll be fine," the Doctor reassured, though his panicky tone failed to match his words.

"No… no, I won't. And neither will you. I'm sorry, but by letting me out… it's going to spread, and you won't be able to stop it."

"What do you _mean_? What's going to spread? You're regenerating, you'll be fine, you'll-"

A massive explosion of energy from the man cut off the Doctor. His arms were splayed out to either side, funnels of gold bursting out from beneath the man's robes. All three of them winced, though Colette was vaguely aware that the Doctor didn't - couldn't - tear his eyes away.

Then, abruptly, the light disappeared. Blinking stars away as she opened her eyes, Colette could make out the shape of the man, still alive and breathing after… whatever it was that had happened. But as her eyes adjusted, she saw that it wasn't the same man. It was a completely different person… but he was wearing the same robes.

Smiling, the Doctor nodded to the new man. "You see? Nothing to-"

But then more energy exploded out of the man, even more intense than before. Colette saw that even the Doctor had to shield his eyes from this outburst.

And then the light vanished again. And, once more, there was a completely different person waiting for them when they opened their eyes. This happened over and over again, each time a different person - two times a woman - until finally, with a scream that defied categorisation as being either male of female, the light became more intense than ever.

The last surge continued on for significantly longer than the others, building and building along with the scream until eventually light and sound became one. And then it was gone. Just… gone.

Opening her eyes, Colette was hopelessly lost in the dark, the spots that had littered her vision earlier having expanded into flashing blobs. It took a long time for them to adjust, and, once they finally had, she saw that the man was gone. No robe, no… residue, nothing.

Nobody had moved. Everybody was staring at the spot the man had once occupied, even the Doctor. Checking them all over, Colette could see that everybody was frozen on the spot, unable to really process what had just happened. But most significant to her was the Doctor. He was similarly stuck, but with one key difference. And it was something she had never expected to see from him having been witness to his easy confidence and strong opinions and will.

The Doctor's hands were shaking. He stood like that for some time before he noticed Colette's gaze. The Doctor slipped his hands in his pockets in an effort to hide them, but this only served to drew attention to his eyes, which were darting around the room like a cornered animal.

Hopelessly confused, Colette looked back to the space the man had occupied. Vicky was crouching down beside it, tentatively putting a hand over the spot, as though it could be hot.

She looked up at Net and shook her head, who was leaning over her shoulder curiously.

"…anybody know what just happened?" he asked quietly.

They all knew that somebody did. And they all knew that he wasn't ready to talk.

And just like that, all the reluctance the Doctor had been showing about coming down here was undeniably justified.

* * *

(A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, everyone, keep them coming!)


	4. Lost in Transition

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Illumination**_

_**Chapter Three: Lost in Transition**_

A weary David sighed as he once more had to stop, pause the transfer, deactivate the drive and then turn it on again. Getting a data transfer from the 'Time Lord pod thing' (as Michelle had christened it) to the ship's computer up and running was far more difficult than he had anticipated. Usually it was just plug in and go. But there seemed to be a frankly ludicrous volume of information coming from the Time Lord pod. And without Vicky here to help with the technical side of things, it was left to David and Tim to come out of the pod to the cargo bay and manually restart the process every time there was a glitch. Which was often.

Well, David was manually restarting. Tim was there to make sure he didn't get shot by… no-one at all. But orders were orders, and Tim loved orders with a passion. Aside from the basic eating, sleeping and toilet imperatives, David was convinced that Tim couldn't do anything for himself. David imagined he just stood in his room, staring blankly at the walls until a superior officer told him what to do.

Said officer was stood outside the open entrance of the pod, and David gave him a friendly nod. No response. Not that David had been expecting any.

He was about to return to his data inputting (very much the worst part of his job as head researcher and sort of archaeologist) when he noticed something odd. There was a viewport above Tim's head, giving a view of the stars outside. But the light was… strange. Darker than usual. David had never seen anything like it. The strangest sensation came over him.

There was an infuriating itching almost… _behind_ his eyes. Squinting and blinking had no effect, and he rubbed his eyes. He could make out Tim through the haze, who was showing no signs of concern for his current predicament. Typical. Then David thought about how much simpler and easier things would be if Tim were dead. He could walk right over there and grab the rifle, pull it away from him and-

Wait, what? Tim was far too big for him to take on. And besides, why was he thinking such violent thoughts anyway? He had always been terrible about such things. Not just because he was inept at them, but because he found them morally abhorrent.

The itchiness in his eyes faded, and David frowned. What the hell had that been all about? He looked back up to the viewport that had caused the irritation in the first place.

With an abrupt crackle that made David jump, his radio came to life.

"_David, this is Johnny, do you copy?"_

Blowing out a calming breath, David shook his head and turned back to the console before responding. "Yes, Johnny, I copy. What's up?"

"_Yeah, you uh… you find anything about a Time Lord thing called relations?"_

An irritated Doctor groaned in the background. _"Regeneration! Regeneration! It's not that hard to remember!"_

"_Right, yeah, sorry," _Johnny mumbled, his tone the exact opposite of apologetic. _"Regeneration, David. You got anything on that?"_

Frowning and adjusting his thin glasses, David looked over the screen. "That sounds familiar… I think we've got some of the information on that in our database now." He pressed the com-link button to the bridge. "Professor, did you see anything about something called 'regeneration' in the data we've transferred so far?"

"_I think so, yes… I'll have a closer look and get back to you."_

With that, the channel closed. David looked back to Tim with a mock 'How rude' expression, though the response was a blank stare.

"Uh…" David returned to his radio. "Johnny, the Professor's looking into it."

"_Okay, thanks."_

"Why the sudden interest? Did something happen?"

"_Oh yeah."_

There was a long silence while David waited patiently, eyes wide. Finally, he frantically rotated his hand around. "And?"

"_I'll tell you when I get up there, we're on our way back now."_

"You're done already? That thing is huge."

"_Yeah, well, this thing that happened kind of made us want to take a break. See you in a couple of minutes."_

Before he could reply, Johnny cut off the radio. With a low growl, David glared down at the cables that were connected to the computer terminal and trailed back to the Time Lord ship. He had known Johnny for eight years now, and the man still managed to infuriate him with his 'Daddy knows best' attitude.

Sometimes daddy didn't know best. Maybe daddy would know even better if he actually spoke to the kids once in a while.

David was acutely aware that he was sulking like a teenager. Shaking his head, he looked back to Tim, something in the back of his mind reminding him of the strange light that had affected his eyes.

The viewport seemed fine. It was Tim that was the problem.

His eyes were black. There were strange burns all over his skin, though not like burnt flesh… it looked more like his arms had been made of paper before being exposed to a flame. Like his skin was… crumpling in on itself, turning to ashes.

And he was pointing his rifle straight at David.

"Tim…?"

Tim fired several times, hitting David in the belly and knocking him onto his back.

Lying there, David couldn't process any thought other than 'I'm going to die' – he didn't even think to look down and check how much he was bleeding. Though part of him didn't want to. He clenched his arms over the wound, not knowing if it would help but doing it anyway. Heavy boots clomped over, and David shakily looked up to see Tim staring down at him with passionless black eyes.

Johnny's voice was coming over the radio, asking if he was all right, but he couldn't even comprehend moving his hand up to answer.

In a move that confused David even more in his frantic state, Tim dropped his rifle to the floor. Then, slowly, he opened his mouth. An intense light shone out from the back of his throat. A croaking rasp of a roar emanated forth, surrounding David as the light from Tim focused on his stomach.

And then the pain disappeared. Completely gone. Euphoria overcame him. The pain was gone. He was going to be fine. Bringing up his hands, he found a thick layer of blood. He stared up at Tim's lifeless face.

What the hell was happening?

* * *

Despite the fact that she spent most of her time travelling across time and space with a group of ex-soldiers, Vicky had never become accustomed to the occasional violent encounters they had, to the point where even the sound of a gun being loaded unnerved her. She hadn't commented on the debate between the Doctor and Colette for fear of eliciting the wrath of the latter, but she firmly came down in the 'Doctor' camp on that one.

So the quick barrage of gunshots they had heard echoing down from the console room didn't make her feel any better.

Johnny's calls to David and Tim went unanswered, and after radioing Michelle and telling her to get down to the cargo bay double-time, he and Colette charged down the corridor, heading for the console room.

Exchanging a nervous glance, the Doctor and Vicky followed suit.

"You think this has anything to do with…" she nodded back down the corridor.

"Don't know," the Doctor said, sounding out of breath. Vicky doubted that breathlessness was down to exertion.

Watching that man who had tumbled out of that pod evaporate into golden energy had silenced the Doctor almost completely. There was something going on in his mind, quietly being processed and shifted around. The scientist in Vicky hoped she would be there when the answer became clear to the Doctor.

It didn't take them long to get to the console room, and then out into the cargo bay. Vicky didn't really understand what she was seeing when she got there behind the Doctor.

David was on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring down at the wound in his belly with an expression of wonder. Tim was… Vicky had no words to describe what had happened to Tim. He was standing over David, his skin appearing blackened and charred, arms held limply at his side. His mouth was wide open, and intense white light was shining out, focusing down on David's wound.

Johnny and Colette were stood behind Tim, the former ordering him to stand down. There was, predictably, no reply. The cargo bay doors opened, and Michelle charged in with Professor Locke in tow. She took a moment to stare directly at Vicky, nodding to check if she was okay.

She smiled anxiously and nodded, and only once she had done so did Michelle make her way around to Johnny and Colette and take up much the same position as them.

Professor Locke, meanwhile, moved his chair to the other side of the situation so he could get a look at Tim. The Doctor seemed to have the same idea, and sidled up next to Locke. Then, with a cautious hand outstretched, the Doctor moved forward, eyes glancing from Tim down to David.

He crouched down and continued forward, edging towards David.

"Doctor, stay the hell back!" Johnny cried out, struggling to be heard over the low growl that was echoing from Tim.

For lack of a better term, the light from Tim seemed to lash out at the Doctor when he got too close to David, knocking him onto his back. The Doctor grabbed onto the cargo bay console and pulled himself up, keeping his eyes on Tim and David the entire time. The growling noise dissipated, fading along with the light.

"It's all right," David said, his smile blissful and his eyes glassy. "The pain is gone, it's all right…"

Eyes slowly rolling up into his head, David's head lolled back. Even from her distance, Vicky could see that he had stopped breathing. The blood loss was too great. Tears welled in her eyes and her hand went to her mouth.

David, who she had known for nearly ten years… was dead.

The light from Tim seemed to jump to David, surrounding his body for the briefest of moments before shooting off past Vicky's face and out the viewport.

Everybody watched it go, staring at the viewport before slowly, inevitably facing the consequences of what had just happened.

The Doctor immediately knelt down beside David's still form, cradling his head and checking his pulse. Vicky was by his side in an instant. They both looked at each other with the same diagnosis in mind.

Groaning, Tim put a hand to his head and stumbled back. His skin was back to normal, though it looked dry and flaky. Colette charged over to him and jammed her rifle into the back of his neck.

"Get down, now! On the floor!"

Johnny and Michelle exchanged a glance and moved forward, both appearing intent on calming Colette.

Tim, meanwhile, just seemed confused. "What's going on, what…?"

Not bothering to ask again, Colette whacked Tim in the back of the legs with the butt of her rifle. Crying out, Tim fell to his knees, where Colette promptly cuffed him.

"What is going on?!" Tim roared, reminding Vicky just how intimidating he was when he actually bothered to speak.

In reply, Colette grabbed his face and pointed a finger at David. "Look at that! That was you! You shot him, and then… I've got no idea _what the hell_ happened then, but you!" She gripped the lapels of his armoured vest and pulled him nose to nose with her. "You killed him!"

Struggling his way out of her grip, Tim stood up. "I didn't"- His expression grew cloudy, and he looked over at David again. "I mean, I don't… I…"

Something clicked in his mind, and his face fell. "I _did_. I remember… pointing and… firing, but… I couldn't control it, there was… why couldn't I stop, I…"

Ignoring the interrogation for now, the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned over David's body. Vicky tried to steady her quivering bottom lip as she realised she was already referring to what was left as 'David's body' rather than 'David'.

"Nothing."

Vicky stared at him. _"Nothing?"_

Sighing, the Doctor nodded, conceding the point. "Besides the gunshot wound, I mean. That… light, whatever it was, left no trace on his body. It covered him, removed his pain, and then, when he died, it left. Back to whence it came, I presume."

"But why, I mean…" Vicky blinked away the moisture in her eyes, trying desperately to put her scientist hat back on. "How did it benefit from David's pain?"

"Let's ask," the Doctor said simply, jumping up to his feet and striding over to the increasingly loud discussion going on between the armed portion of the crew. Vicky just watched in mute shock as the Doctor tapped Johnny on the shoulder.

"Can I have a word?"

"I'm kind of busy, Doc."

"Not with you."

The bluntness of the reply got Johnny's attention, and after a moment or two of inspecting the Doctor's face, the Colonel slowly nodded. He tapped Michelle on the arm to allow the Doctor access to the once again kneeling Tim. Colette, who was stood over Tim and in the middle of angrily attempting to understand, wasn't happy to see the Doctor encroaching on her personal space.

When he showed no sign of leaving, Colette looked incredulously at Johnny, who nodded his consent. Colette backed down, not looking at all pleased with the situation. Vicky was impressed. Johnny must have seen something in the Doctor's expression that meant business.

With a kind smile, the Doctor squatted down opposite Tim, relentlessly trying to keep eye contact. Tim, however, was having none of it, his shameful gaze locked on the floor.

"So. Tim. Take me through what happened."

"I don't…" Tim's voice shook, which just served to upset Vicky even more.

"No, you _do _remember, you just don't understand. Am I right?"

Slowly, silently, the giant nodded.

"So, again. Tim. Take me through what happened."

"I was…guarding the pod. David was overseeing the transfer. I heard him get a call from Johnny. And then I… felt something from the viewport."

"_Felt_ something? How do you mean? As in it physically touched you?"

He shook his head. "It's difficult to… I could feel it in my head, almost… telling me to turn around. And then I did, and then my eyes were… it was like there was an itch… inside my head. I couldn't see properly, it was like… there were ink blots over my eyes."

The Doctor nodded like an experienced therapist. "And then what?"

A pained expression grew on Tim's face.

"_Tim. _You have to tell us. What happened?"

"I couldn't… something in my mind told me that I should shoot David."

"A voice, or…?"

"No, just… an idea. It came into my head like an idea. I started to think it was for the best, that it would be easy, that my life would be better if I just…" His usually stony, inert face began to crumble. "And then I…"

"Oh, please," Colette snorted. "He's just trying to get out of deciding to murder David by blaming it on something else."

"Ah, the old 'Kill my friend and then spew forth intense pain-relieving light on his wounds in a manner never before seen in the known universe' trick," the Doctor said, tiredly smiling at Colette. "The amount of times I've fallen for that old chestnut, I tell you…"

Her lip curling, Colette strode toward the Time Lord. Michelle intercepted her, holding her back.

"You have something you want to say?" she snarled.

"Oh, that's a dangerous question, we could be here all year," the Doctor replied dismissively, focusing his attention on Tim. "Right. Tim. I'm going to try something to help me understand. Hopefully. Not an exact science, this. Which doesn't sound reassuring, I admit, but there you are, eh?"

He held his hands up and open, the palms moving to go either side of Tim's head.

Johnny put up a questioning finger. "Uh, Doc…"

"Don't worry, it's perfectly safe," the Doctor droned, like he had heard it all before.

"_What?_ What's perfectly safe?"

"The… mind reading thing that I can do," he clarified, waggling his fingers around. He noticed Tim's concerned look, and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'm only interested in the past couple of minutes. I won't go prying. Unless there's something really cool."

"Mind reading?" Colette groaned. "We're seriously believing this?"

"About as believable as a tiny pod that's the size of a city inside," Michelle noted, to which Colette had no answer. Vicky felt a small twinge of pride.

Taking that as approval, the Doctor rested his hands gently on either side of Tim's face. They grimaced in unison for the briefest of moments before Tim relaxed. The Doctor remained tense throughout the entire procedure, eyebrows moving here and there as he found things that interested him.

"There was definitely something else in here… an alien presence… but it's… hard to pin down. All memory of it is fading away quickly, it's almost completely gone from the conscious mind. Like it's covering its tracks." He twitched his head to the side. "But it came from outside… through the viewport… it… 'tried' David, but he didn't… _work_, there was something missing…"

Sadly, Vicky ran a hand down David's serene face.

The Doctor continued on. "Then it went on to Tim, and there was… there's something in Tim that David didn't have that makes him easier to control…"

"So it _was _control?" Johnny asked, giving a pointed look in Colette's direction.

The Time Lord nodded, eyes still closed. "But not… like a puppet, it was more… it was more like it literally _changed_ his mind. Made him think it was okay to hurt David. Not kill him, though, it didn't want him dead, that was an accident. It… _fed_ on the pain."

Michelle ducked her head down, as though she had misheard. "'Fed'? It feeds on pain?"

"Seems to, but... that wasn't why it was here. It was here for something else. It felt something different… something _more_ and it felt compelled to come. But I can't tell what…" With a sudden groan, he took his hands away from Tim's head. "And that's it. All trace of it is gone."

Leaving Tim to blink in dazed surprise, the Doctor jumped to his feet. He commenced pacing around the cargo bay, kneading his hands together as he deduced aloud. "Remarkable, really. It was erasing itself even as I was searching for it, which meant it had an intelligence of its own. But it still thought of itself as being part of a greater whole. So, a hive consciousness. A creature without form that can convince people to hurt others to allow it to feed on their pain… this thing and the Daleks would get on like a house on fire…"

Vicky frowned. "Doctor, you said that David _didn't _have whatever it is they needed to control people. So… what is it that Tim had that David didn't?"

He snapped his fingers and pointed a digit at her. "Correct _and _interesting. I'm starting to like you, Vicky. It's either something unique to Tim and we have nothing to worry about or…"

Johnny raised his eyebrows expectantly. "…or?"

"_Or_ any one of us could be taken over at any time."

"And want to hurt everyone else."

Unimpressed, the Doctor grumbled. "Well, if you want to sum it up in a way that doesn't take five minutes to show off how brilliant you are… then yes."

"Assuming you're telling the truth," Colette butted in.

The Doctor groaned and rolled his eyes like a teenager being scolded by his parents. "Oh, come _on_, can we move past this already? I go through this every time! Do I just have a face that nobody trusts? And _eleven _times over, that's… very unlucky."

"It's irrelevant anyway," Locke announced, floating over in his chair. "I want us inside the pod and looking at the holographic archives that David found."

Looking like he had been hit from three sides at once, Johnny shook his head. "Let's back up a little here. First, David – remember him, the guy who's worked for you for eight years? - his dead body is on the floor, and as far as I'm concerned, that's the most important thing. Then we've got this alien whatever floating around that could make us attack each other at any moment. And third, we… no, there's not a third, but I'm pretty damn sure one and two are strong enough by themselves. Especially number one."

"Good list," the Doctor added. "I used to get muddled up with lists all the time. I'm better at it now, though. Got a notepad."

Unsure how to take that, Johnny just nodded in acceptance of the compliment.

"Fine," Locke said. "You take David's body to the med centre while we go inside."

Johnny nodded, though his face didn't have that look of someone who was particularly satisfied. "Okay. Michelle, you're in command until I get back."

"Gotcha."

"But before you go in, everybody leave their weapons out here."

The subtlest quirk of a smile appeared on the Doctor's face, but it looked like Vicky was the only one to notice.

Colette's jaw dropped. "What? You can't be serious."

"Colette, I'm not in the mood."

"You're taking this at _his _word?" she all but shouted, pointing a finger at the Doctor. "We hardly know anything about him!"

"I don't need to take his word. We saw what happened. Tim shot David. The Tim I know would never shoot David. Add to that the weird light we saw, and I don't know what else to tell you. None of us can be trusted, so _no guns_. That way nobody gets shot, and everybody's happy. Is that clear?"

Now it was Colette's turn to look like a moody teenager, arms folded irritably in front of her.

"Colette. Are we clear?"

"Yes. Sir."

"Good," Johnny sighed. He was the first to take off his rifle and put it onto a crate before moving over to David and kneeling down beside him.

"Excuse me," he said quietly to Vicky, and she stood up and stepped aside accordingly. With a profound sadness in his eyes that Vicky had never before seen from him, Johnny scooped David up, grunting as he stood to his full height. Blood was still dripping from David's body, and soaked the cuffs of Johnny's sleeves.

If it bothered him, he showed no sign, instead walking straight out of the cargo bay without a word. Everybody had remained respectfully silent while that had been going on.

Michelle was the first to bring herself out of it. "Okay, Colette, let's disarm and get movin'."

She still wasn't having any of it, however, and made to pull Michelle aside. "I still don't think-"

"Damn it, you're a soldier," Locke yelled out, making the word 'soldier' sound like an insult. "You've been given an order, it's not up to you to decide whether or not it's a good idea. Now hop to it!"

Looking about as close to someone who had been slapped in the face as anyone could look without actually _being _slapped, Colette scowled and stormed over to the crate where Johnny had left his rifle. With a severity that made Vicky worry that the gun would go off, Colette whipped off her rifle and slammed it down onto the crate. That done, she stomped back to the entrance to the pod.

Michelle did the same thing, but with an incredible calmness and meticulous attention to detail. She smiled at Vicky and gestured to the pod.

"Time to go," she said gently.

Though still shaken from what had happened to David, it did help to have Michelle around to reassure her. She had a miraculous skill for calming her down no matter the situation, which is exactly what she needed right now.

Locke didn't need telling twice, and was in the pod before any of them could protest. With a roll of the eyes, Colette followed. Michelle made a beeline for Tim, who was squatting against the wall, his head hanging down. Vicky could only imagine the way he was feeling. To kill your friend and _remember _doing it? She shuddered to think.

The Doctor joined her as she entered the pod, distracting her from the way Michelle had crouched down next to Tim, her demeanour the exact opposite of Colette's paranoid aggression.

"How are you doing?" the Doctor asked casually, as though they were discussing the weather.

"Well, not used to seeing my friends die in front of me, so… pretty, uh… numb at the moment."

"Yeah…" his eyes became distant. "Never easy, that."

She tilted her head to look at him and sighed. "You've seen that kind of thing before. I don't know why that makes me so sad, but it does."

"It's this little thing called empathy. And by little, I mean massive. Hold on to that one, it's important. He nodded to Locke and Colette, who had both moved around to the other side of the console. "So, father and daughter, eh? And clearly no love lost between them. That must get awkward."

Vicky looked at him in disbelief. "How did you-?"

"I recognise familial discord when I saw it, and I definitely saw it out there. And they look alike." He waved a finger around his face. "Same eyes, similar cheekbones."

"Ah. Well. That's not as miraculous as I thought it was going to be."

"Yeah, sorry, sometimes it's the boring details that tell the most interesting story," he said offhandedly, running a finger along the rim of the console.

"Vicky, you and the Doctor bring up the archives," Locke said, having apparently got the final word in the quiet argument he and his daughter had been having. "According to David's findings there's information about what this place is for. Research logs, that sort of thing."

"Right," she said confidently, before looking over at the Doctor. "I don't suppose you'd like to help me…?"

The Doctor looked around awkwardly. "Well, your soldier friends can't threaten me with gunshots to the rear anymore, but… I'm sure they could come up with something equally unpleasant if I don't."

He sidled up beside her at the console. "And besides, you're the first person to actually _ask_ me to do something, and not order. Always goes down well."

She smiled, and they got to work. Vicky only understood half of what was on the console, but the Doctor patiently pointed out anything she was doing wrong.

"Can I ask you something?"

"One of the most ominous questions that can possible be asked," the Doctor mused. He smiled apologetically. "Go on."

"That man downstairs…"

Completely avoiding eye contact, he paused before replying. "The exploding one, yes. Vaguely remember him."

"That was… regeneration, was it?"

"Well, sort of. Usually the end result isn't exploding."

"What… _is _the end result? I mean, how is regeneration supposed to work?"

He looked at her askew. "Isn't this something you should know?"

"Hey, Time Lords are the stuff of legend. You lot didn't leave a lot of books lying around when you went."

A sad, tired smile crossed his face. "No, I suppose we didn't." He squared his shoulders and put his head back as though delivering a lecture he had heard before. "A Time Lord, when faced with certain death, can change completely down to the cellular level."

"Ah, that would explain all the different faces on your profile. That _were _on your profile," she corrected, before frowning. "Certain death? But that man wasn't even injured. He didn't look it, anyway. Why did he regenerate like that?"

"I don't know. Though I admit I haven't seen it from the outside that often."

Vicky stared at him for a long moment, glancing around before asking the question that was now burning in her mind. "So… you've regenerated before…"

He nodded again.

"Can I ask… what is it like?"

That prompted a humourless, almost patronising laugh, the Doctor looking up to the ceiling. "Imagine… every single part of you - body, mind, soul, everything - exploding and then being contorted and twisted into a new, different shape."

"Sounds painful."

He didn't reply.

"But you… stay the same, right? I mean, you're the same person but just with a different face."

"Yes… and no. You're still made of the same ingredients, they're just jumbled about. The big things stay the same, but the little things… they're a little more malleable."

"So it's not a big deal for Time Lords, then? I mean, painful, but-"

"No, it… it's definitely a… big deal. Some Time Lords treat it like nothing, but to me… you're a distinct, individual person. And then you realise you're going to change, and… you don't want to. You like the way you are now. Why wouldn't you? That's who you are." He seemed to be in his own world now, talking to himself.

"But then, suddenly, you're not that person anymore, and you look back on who you used to be, and how much you didn't want to change, and you wonder… why? Why was I so worried? Because I'm better now. Bowties, fish fingers and custard, great. Geronimo. But that's what makes it worse. Because you know that the next time you change, you'll look back at bowties and fezzes and you'll just think… how _stupid _you looked. That's the worst thing about it. You die, get left behind… and nobody cares. Not even you."

Vicky was at a loss for words. She couldn't confess to really understand what he was talking about, but… the pain behind his words was impossible for her to just leave alone.

Tentatively, she reached out and put a hand on his. He didn't even seem to notice at first, but then slowly shifted out of whatever horrible world he had entered in his mind. Looking down, he saw her hand, and he smiled.

"See?" He said quietly. "Empathy. Massive."

Then his eyes shot up again, this time in horror. Something was coming together in his mind.

"It _is _painful…"

She ducked her head down, trying to get in his eye line and get him to explain his thought process. "What is? What?"

"Regeneration. It's painful. One of the most painful things there is. And that's just a single time. If you regenerated over and over again, one after the other without stopping, the pain would be…"

The Doctor looked over at Colette, then whipped his gaze around to Michelle and Tim, who were stood on either side of the entrance to the pod. Following his gaze, Vicky gasped as she saw their blackened eyes. Their burnt, charred skin. Colette had pulled a handgun from somewhere and was holding it against her father's head, keeping her other hand under his chin.

"…well, it could possibly resemble an advert for an 'all you can eat' buffet," the Doctor finished, his voice somehow more relaxed than Vicky had heard it before.

It was almost as if the Doctor enjoyed these types of situations.

* * *

(A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews. More please. Just a couple of words of feedback, good or bad, is appreciated.)


	5. The Rights of the Living

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Illumination**_

_**Chapter Four: The Rights of the Living**_

Tim looked down at his charred and blackened hands, and once more beheld them through the dark fog which had overtaken him before. What had he been so afraid of? He was better this way. Everything seemed so easy now. He could do anything he wanted. It was so clear.

That was why he had shot David. Because he could. His friend, David.

His friend…

The fog in front of his eyes shifted. What was going on? David was dead because of him. He was responsible. He-

"This is new," Colette said, grabbing Tim's attention. She was still holding her father hostage, and was relishing tightening her grip and making him squirm. Tim could feel her pleasure through the blackness.

"What, holding your father hostage?" the Doctor asked, his mind a blank to Tim. He didn't have what was needed to become part of them. And he was lesser for it. "I should hope so. I know fathers and daughters have their disagreements, but this is excessive. Then again, I had a daughter who was good with guns, so I can talk."

Colette didn't seem to notice the Doctor's ramblings. Or if she did, she didn't acknowledge them.

"Sentience. Symbiosis. I can _feel _things that I have never have before. The cold metal of the gun in my hand, the stiff material of my jumpsuit. There has never been a host that has welcomed us so readily, has been willing to… _become _us without any resistance."

"Ah, so Colette's different," the Doctor surmised. "More violent, I suppose…" He thought on it for a moment before speaking again. "A greater potential for inflicting pain, and therefore a better food source, I _see_…"

"Yes, and a _willingness _to inflict pain. She… we…" She tilted her head to the side and smiled. Tim could feel Colette's consciousness merging with that of the Light. "…_I_… enjoy it."

To emphasise her point, she abruptly jolted Locke's head up. He gasped for breath, and all three of them closed their eyes, drinking in the small amount of pain it let free.

Vicky seemed torn between moving to help her mentor and not wanting him to get shot. The Doctor, meanwhile, didn't seem concerned at all, instead smiling at Colette across the console.

"Yes, that's what everybody else in the universe tends to call 'cruelty'."

With a crooked smile that indicated just how much pleasure she was deriving from this experience, Colette swung the handgun away from her father and pointed it at the Doctor.

"You've got a big mouth."

"My mouth as well?" the Doctor blurted out, mortified. He checked his face in a reflective panel in the console. "I thought it was just my chin…"

"But I need you alive and pain-free for now. Besides, the pain I'd be able to consume from you is nothing compared to what I've found here…"

All previous levity dropped from the Doctor, and he stared at Colette intently. "What do you mean?"

"Whatever happened to the man in the chamber room. The pain he felt from that… golden explosion…" Tim could feel the hunger swelling within her. Glancing over, he saw that Michelle was feeling it too. The memory of that outburst of pain was…

"…exquisite," Colette finished. "It's what drew us… _me_ here in the first place. And then I became even more by joining with Colette. Now I'm capable of creating great pain… which will help me find an even greater source."

"And you're expecting what from us, exactly?" the Doctor asked. "Servitude? Obedience? Because I only think it's fair to warn a prospective employer _before _they hire me about how difficult an employee I can be. Except if I work in a toyshop. Or in sales. Either of those is fine." For a moment, he looked and sounded hopeful. "Are you… going to ask me to work in either of those capacities?"

Without a word, Colette pointed her gun at Vicky, who could do nothing but raise her hands in silent terror.

There was a good couple of seconds as the Doctor and Colette engaged in their own private staring contest, an unspoken match of wills. Unfortunately for the Doctor, his conscience won through.

"Fine," he sulked, stepping over to the console and working away. Colette kept her gun trained on Vicky the entire time, no doubt in case the Doctor tried anything.

"Don't suppose I can pass the time by asking who you are, where you're from?" the Doctor ventured, not stopping his work as he spoke.

"We have always been," Colette replied. "There is no… _beginning_ as you would understand it. We- I," she corrected, smiling, "_I _am all encompassing. Everywhere. I am the Light."

"The Light. I see," the Doctor replied, unimpressed. "Sounds nice. Very new age-y, although I've never quite understood what that meant. A friend tried to explain it to me once, but she said I'd never be able to understand while I was wearing that big multi-coloured coat."

"Shut up and work."

"Said the boss to the bin-man…" he grumbled.

Odd. Tim felt through his… _other_ that usually the emotions and intents of those possessed by the Light were clear to their fellows. But now, with Colette… they were muddied. It seemed she was influencing the Light inside her as much as it was influencing her. Tim could feel his other becoming concerned.

Before Tim could think much further on the subject, the central column in the middle of the console lit up, bathing the chamber in bright blue light. Eventually it coalesced into the shimmering form of a woman wearing grand robes. Her hair was cut short, almost a crew cut, with a stern expression to match. Tim had seen many of their type in his military career - they were the strategists, the organisers. There was a coldness, a certainty of intent. It's what made them so good at assigning soldiers to die in battle.

The Doctor tapped a button that Tim presumed was 'play', and the frozen image came to life.

"_Research log number 2619 slash acorn slash Baker. Though non-Gallifreyan, all subjects are responding well to intensive exposure to the modified Schism outlet. Subjects two and five have regenerated, their forms broken down into pure energy. Whether the energy retains the consciousness of the subject as hoped is yet to be determined; thus far the energy has dissipated after each incident. Subject three has shown signs of regeneration after exposure to the Shinthara virus. We are going to attempt to collect and sustain the regeneration energy at the appropriate time. We shall continue to observe. End of log."_

The woman froze again. Colette was transfixed on the glowing figure, mouth slightly agape. Her gun, however, was still pointed firmly at Vicky, which Tim could see frustrated the Doctor to no end.

"What's the Shinthara virus?" Colette asked quietly.

"It doesn't exist anymore. The Time Lords destroyed it. One of the few times they intervened. And this is… a _long _time ago. Way before I was born…" He looked down at the console, talking to himself. "But they _kept _some of it. For experimentation. The great and powerful Time Lords."

"Show me more," Colette said.

"Did you even understand any of that?" the Doctor asked, a pleading tone in his voice. "There's nothing to learn here. Only Time Lords can regenerate. If you want that sort of pain, you're going to have to just shoot me and be done with it."

A hungry look flashed across Colette's eyes, and she slowly turned the gun on him. Vicky was mutely shaking her head, tears forming in her eyes. Glancing over at Michelle, Tim could see her blinking, as though trying to remove something from her eye. Her feelings for Vicky were breaking through the Light's hold on her.

Tim couldn't understand what was wrong with him. Why wasn't he more in control? _He _was the one who had shot David, after all. His friend for eight years. They had played poker on Thursday nights with the rest of the crew. Tim had never been able to see through David's poker face. Mostly because he was constantly smiling throughout the game.

And now he was dead. All because of him.

"Tempting," Colette said, luxuriating in the moment. "But I still need you. I feel like there's something more to be found here, and _you _don't want us to find it. So more. Please."

She moved the gun back to Vicky and raised her eyebrows expectantly at the Doctor.

"Fine," the Doctor grumbled. "I'll pick the last one. Let's see what happened to everybody, eh?"

The image of the woman changed, and Vicky gasped at the new image. It was easy to tell why. It was the same woman, but gaunt, exhausted.

And she was missing an arm.

Reaching for the 'play' button, the Doctor held his finger back for a moment before finally pressing it.

The woman jolted into life. _"If you're here, watching this… get out. Just run. The regeneration experiments, they…" _There was a loud scream from beside her, and she looked over. Suddenly bathed in bright light, she squinted and covered her eyes with her remaining hand. _"The subjects escaped. They attacked us. But we didn't realise… our experiments with the regeneration energy… it's everywhere around you, right now. The slightest injury brings about regeneration, and then it doesn't stop. It just keeps on going and going until you're gone, and then your raw materials become the next batch."_

Tim thought there was something wrong with the image, but it was the woman herself. She was glowing.

"_All of us are gone now. Even the escaped subjects. Regenerated to death. All of them except one. He climbed back into his stasis chamber to freeze the process. If you find him, don't release him unless you've found a cure. This experiment was a mistake. A terrible mistake. The time vortex gave us regeneration. We should have left well enough alone. Rassilon, my lord… you were wrong. We don't deserve to survive death, as creatures of consciousness or anything else. We should die. We should…"_

Her breathing became laboured as energy seemed to evaporate from her very pores.

"_Get out. Get out now. It's only confined to the complex. If you leave it can't affect you. It's too late for any of us. Run. RUN!"_

And then, with a scream that crackled through the speakers, the energy exploded out of her. Tim could sense Colette's reaction; one of yearning, of need. This was what she wanted. This is what drew them here. Eventually, the energy pouring out of the woman became too much for the recording to maintain, and the hologram winked out.

"My God…" Locke breathed.

The Doctor abruptly collapsed forward, propping up his body with his outstretched arms, he head hanging. Hesitantly, and glancing over at the gun Colette had trained on her, Vicky moved over to him, putting a supportive hand on his back.

"I always knew there was a corrupt element, even before the war… but _this_ is… this is so much worse."

"It's… beautiful," Colette whispered, mirroring the awe that Tim could feel from the Light within himself. "And this complex, this… craft can travel across all of time and space. I could spread this regeneration virus across all of creation. Imagine an entire planet experiencing the pain that drew us here…"

Tears were forming in their eyes at the mere thought of it.

"But first we need to check that the virus works…" she added, raising her gun to Vicky.

"No," the Doctor said, stepping in front of her.

"I agree," a very loud, commanding voice said. Everybody turned and saw Colonel John 'Johnny' Net stood in the doorway of the console room, rifle in hand.

A gunshot shook the air, and Vicky jumped a mile with the quickest scream Tim had ever heard. The Doctor was aghast.

"Sorry, boss," Colette sneered, "I decided to keep a gun. Seemed the smart thing to do."

Looking down, Johnny saw the gunshot wound in his side. He brought up his hand and stared in unbridled disbelief at the blood on his fingertips.

"W-"

He coughed and fell to his knees, rifle clattering to the floor. The Doctor, ignoring the imminent threat of Colette's trigger finger, raced over to him, easing the Colonel onto his back. Vicky shortly followed, crouching down on Johnny's other side.

"See?" the Doctor scolded. "Guns. Bad idea."

Managing a smile despite himself, Johnny coughed. "Yeah… beginning to agree with you."

Colette had wandered over in the meantime, idly peering down at the Colonel, waiting for some reaction.

"Uh, Doc…" Johnny gasped.

The Doctor shushed him, inspecting the wound. "Be quiet, don't move."

"No, it's just… I feel funny."

"You've been shot. Funny's not exactly the sensation I was expecting, but I think it's normal to feel a bit weird."

"But it's… tingly…"

He brought up his hands. They were glowing. The Doctor stumbled to his feet, backing away from the Colonel. Vicky moved away also, putting Johnny between her and the Doctor.

"This is what happened to that… guy, in the room," Johnny asked, growing more frantic with every moment of silence. "Isn't it? That's what's happening, right?"

The anguish on the Doctor's face made Tim uncomfortable. He started to feel that itching in his eye again, like there was something there that needed to come out. Johnny was dying. Shouldn't he be feeling something now? Something bad?

No, of course not. It was good that Johnny was dying. The pain he would feel would be divine.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor managed, his voice hoarse.

A brief moment of calm came across Johnny's face, and he looked over at Tim with a look that was meant to reassure him. A look that said 'It's okay'.

Then he exploded, golden energy spewing out of him. Colette and Michelle opened their arms and their mouths, the Light emanating from their mouths, feeding on the veritable feast of pain.

But Tim felt… a reticence. Johnny was dying. Johnny Net, the man who had been his friend since they were teenagers. Through all the jokes and heartbreak and horrors of war, he had been there, supporting him, helping him, pushing him to be better. And now… he was just gone. And Tim was just standing there. The itching in his eyes intensified.

"Run," he croaked at the Doctor. The Time Lord wasn't listening, his eyes locked on Johnny's regenerating form. Tim stumbled forward, grabbing the Doctor's arm and yanking him away. "Run!"

His eyes wide, the Doctor looked at Vicky, who was trapped on the other side of the geyser of golden energy flowing from the Colonel.

"Go!" she cried. "You can do more away from here, go!"

With a loud growl of frustration, the Doctor checked to the other side of the console, and saw that Professor Locke was already on his way out, heading down the corridor.

Suddenly, the golden energy stopped. Tim took a moment from rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands to look back. Johnny was no longer there. He was just… gone. Evaporated into the air.

Colette and Michelle were stood with eyes closed, content. They took a long moment to drink in the moment, to digest the energy they had just taken in. She and Michelle looked at each other.

"More," they whispered, simultaneously.

With a smile of laconic ecstasy, Colette looked over at where the Doctor had been. The smile only faltered slightly as she watched the Doctor sprint away towards the corridor. Highly amused, she raised her gun.

Desperate, Tim stumbled forward, his eyes raw from his insistent rubbing and scratching. Then, suddenly, it was gone. He could see and think clearly. And then he cried out as the bullet hit his arm, the force of the gunshot throwing him around and onto his back.

Gripping the wound tightly, Tim groaned as an overwhelming tingling ran through his body, like pins and needles but much more intense. He brought up his hands and watched in an odd wonder as he saw the golden wisps hissing from his fingers. Colette and Michelle stood over him, their faces barely visibly through the golden haze slowly misting up his vision. But this was nothing like the intrusive black liquid that had blocked his mind and eyes before.

This was… clarifying. Purifying. And he knew that he had helped the Doctor and Locke escape. With their ludicrously big brains, surely they would be able to come up with something to save Vicky and exorcise whatever this… Light was.

A low rumble echoed down to him. It was coming from Michelle and Colette, their mouths opening and that horrible, piercing light rolling from the back of their throats. The golden energy burned through him, and he smiled.

_See you soon, Johnny._

* * *

Breathing was not easy for Professor Evan Locke. It wasn't easy at the best of times, even with the assistance his life support chair provided him. But now, during an incredibly stressful situation in which he had witnessed his daughter killing a man he had know for well over a decade?

Well, that made the whole breathing process just a little more strained. He vaguely wondered why nobody had come after him yet, but decided against lingering on the thought for too long, instead focusing on finding a way out. Though it was beginning to look like there was only one way in or out of this place. And that was through… whatever it was that had taken Colette and the others.

Footsteps pounded down the corridor behind him, and before he could even turn around his chair was in the grip of the Doctor, pushing him along.

"Sorry, no time for a leisurely float, we've got to find a nice hiding place."

Locke took a long, rasping breath. "And… you know where there is one?"

"Sort of, maybe, hope so, in that order."

They turned a corner at a speed he definitely wasn't comfortable with, his chair nearly colliding with the wall as the Doctor just continued on, sprinting for all he was worth. Finally, after passing about ten doors on either side, the Doctor stopped, elbowing a panel beside the eleventh door.

The door slid open obligingly, revealing what looked like an overgrown jungle. There were no animal noises, however, so Locke was relatively content to allow the Doctor to push him inside.

"What is this place?"

"It's what _should be _the Cloister Room," the Doctor replied. "They won't be able to find us here. I _think_. And there should be… ah."

After moving a couple of feet into the room, the Doctor stopped. The door slid shut behind them, but, somehow, there was still light in the chamber. Locke couldn't see a source, but that was the most minor thing going on in his mind right now. A mound of leaves and vines sat in front of Locke, and he watched with avid curiosity as the Doctor moved over to it.

He grabbed the vines and tore them away, and Locke struggled to see past his flailing limbs to catch a glimpse of what was underneath. After a good minute or so of struggling, the Doctor stepped back, clapping his hands together to remove any detritus left on his palms.

"There."

"What… is it?"

The Doctor took a deep breath, as though about to reveal some deep, dark secret. Then, he smiled humourlessly. "A bench, I need to sit down."

With a languorous step, the Doctor moved to said seating, whirled around on his heel, and plopped himself down unceremoniously. Leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, the Doctor stared right into Locke.

"It's immortality, isn't it," he asked quietly, though there was no uncertainty in his tone or demeanour.

Thinking he had misheard, Locked blinked. "What?"

"It's immortality," the Doctor repeated. He paused for so long Locke was wondering if that was all he was going to say. Then, leaning back, the Doctor looked up, waving his finger about. "All of this. All of the expense, travelling through time and space, seeking out all these temporal anomalies and strange objects floating in space…" He leant forward again, poking a finger at Locke but stopping just shy of physically touching his nose. "It's all just for you."

Scowling, Locke slapped the hand away. "You don't know anything about me."

"No? All right then," he said, the barest hint of smugness in his voice as he sat back and crossed his legs like a TV presenter. "Explain it to me. I'm a Doctor, I love to listen."

For the longest time, Locke didn't reply. He didn't _want _to reply. Who the hell was this man to judge him? A man with a lot of knowledge, yes, but what right did that give him to pass judgement? After everything he had been through? It was that indignation that made Locke reply. He felt a need to cow this upstarts' sense of superiority.

"I don't want immortality. Yes, I was interested by regeneration, because look at me," he said, holding his arms out to better display his crippled body. "Why wouldn't I be? But that's not why I brought all of this together." He stared right back at the Doctor, matching his intense gaze. "I want time travel."

A puzzled expression furrowed the Doctor's brow. "You're from the 51st century. You've _got_ time travel."

"The technology isn't powerful enough."

That seemed to grab the Doctor's attention again, and he sat forward once more, speaking slowly. "Why do you want more powerful technology?"

He sighed, realising with regret just how much he was going to have to reveal to this complete stranger.

"For my daughter."

"Colette?" The Doctor frowned. "But there's nothing wrong with her. I mean, besides the being of pure evil nestled in her consciousness, but before that she was fine. A bit grumpy, maybe, but-"

"My… _other _daughter."

This just served to deepen the Doctor's frown for a few moments before, finally, his expression widened. A deep-set sadness filled his eyes, and suddenly the Doctor couldn't meet Locke's gaze anymore.

"…your other… _dead_… daughter."

Twisting his mouth around so as repress his trembling bottom lip, Locke nodded. "Rachel. She was wonderful. Innocent, optimistic. She helped me through my illness when no-one else would. Not even me. She gave me hope, helped give me the will to continue on… to really _fight_… when all I wanted to do was to be left alone to die."

Locke took his time to recompose himself before he continued. Bringing up these memories while his body was in such a state of excitement was making it difficult to keep the emotions down.

"And then… the creatures who did this to me returned without warning. They attacked viciously, killing hundreds in the first wave."

"I remember it," the Doctor whispered.

The restrained grief in the Doctor's voice hit Locke harder than he thought possible, and he couldn't help the way his voice thickened as he continued. "Rachel was… killed… in the most terrible way, right in front of me. And I couldn't do anything to stop it."

He stared straight at the Doctor, whose gaze gradually came up to look back at him. "I want to travel back in time and save her. But I'm not an idiot. History says that she died. That's a fixed point in time. If saved her, I would create a paradox that could destroy… everything. _I know that_. So I want more powerful time travel technology to help sustain the paradox."

Locke found a strength growing in him as he continued on, powered by anger and his convictions. He was _right_. He _knew _it. And nobody was going to convince him otherwise.

"I just want to save my daughter. Don't I have that right? After all the suffering I've endured, don't I get a chance at being happy?"

They both sat there for the longest time, waiting for something to enable either of them to speak again. Finally, the Doctor's head lolled down, and he covered his eyes with his hand, rubbing them slowly.

"I thought the way you did once," he said sadly. "I was… a different man then."

The Doctor pointed a finger at Locke. "But not so different that I don't still understand what you're going through. I've lost people who I…" He took a moment, as though the coming word was one that took physical effort for him to say. "…loved. And if I wanted to… I could use my TARDIS combined with the technology here and save them. I knew that as soon I saw this… thing. I _could_ save them. Sustain a new paradox. Save her from the Library. Cure the meta-crisis, punch a hole to another reality…" A shaky breath escaped him. "Visit the Brigadier…"

His shoulders sagged. "But I can't. _We _can't. You're only human, and I'm…" He sighed, but with an odd look of relief, as though the realisation had freed him. "I'm only a Time Lord."

"Yes, that's right," Locke snarled. "You're a Time Lord. You have a TARDIS. You could save Rachel, you could-"

He didn't even let him finish. "It's not our place. We can't just-"

"'Not our place'? You don't…" A burning rage built in Locke's chest, and he faintly heard his life support systems beeping as they accelerated their work to compensate for the sudden excitement. "You say you understand what I'm going through, but you have no idea. You don't know what it feels like to have someone who is so close to you, someone-"

"My whole family," the Doctor snapped, clicking his fingers. "Gone. My entire race." He clicked his fingers again. "Gone."

The abrupt surge of anger was followed by an exhausted sigh, as though just that small outburst had cost him too much energy.

"Anybody I grow to love… gone." A level of pain that Locke had thought impossible on such a young face afflicted the Doctor as he stared off to some point behind Locke. "You give so much of yourself to them. You don't know how much until suddenly they're just… not there. And you realise you relied on them more than you ever thought you would. And you…"

He sighed, in his own world now. "You get angry at yourself for getting comfortable, and at them for burning themselves into your hearts in the first place. And then you hate yourself for hating them, and then…" His mouth contorted, as though the words tasted bitter. "…in your darkest, vilest moments… just to spare yourself the agony of coming to love them and then having to leave them behind… you find yourself wishing they'd never been born at all."

Those final words hung in the air, countering anything Locke could have possibly thought to say. The Doctor hung his head low, facing the floor and slowly rubbing the back his neck. With a deep breath, he pushed his hands down on his knees and forced himself up until he was standing, looking down at Locke.

Without a word, he walked around Locke and towards the exit.

Having never felt so helpless, Locke's eyes fell down to his hands, weak and useless. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to stop Colette," the Doctor said simply. "Either she'll die, or I will. If I survive, then I'll destroy this place." He paused for a moment before adding, quietly, "It's time to put an end to it."

His footsteps crunched against the undergrowth of the jungle, and Locke almost allowed him to leave before summoning a sudden surge of willpower and turning his chair around.

"You're killing her by doing this, you know," he said, glaring through tears. "Not just Colette. You're killing Rachel. A wonderful, beautiful, innocent girl and all the good she could have done in the world."

Slowly, the Doctor turned to face him, his face shadowy and gaunt.

"And that's no choice at all."

The Doctor walked out the door.

* * *

(A/N: I was listening to a particular piece of Who music while writing that last section: 'Altering Lives' from the Specials Soundtrack. A truly incredible, mournful track and one of my favourites from any soundtrack, not just _Doctor Who. _It felt very right for the conversation the Doctor and Locke were having in that it acts as a sort of bookend for the Doctor's talk with Adelaide in 'The Waters of Mars'.

Anyway, reviews please!)


	6. The Wishes of the Dead

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Illumination**_

_**Chapter Five: The Wishes of the Dead**_

His boots clomped loudly on the metal floor, each footstep echoing around him ominously. The Doctor checked over his shoulder for anybody following. Though Locke seemed to be resolved to what the Doctor was about to do, it wasn't unlikely that he would try to stop him.

But, from a purely subjective viewpoint, he was more concerned with the (by now probably armed) soldiers that had been possessed by pure evil.

It didn't take him long to get to the door he wanted. Sonic screwdriver in hand, he pointed it at the panel beside the door. With a satisfying whirr, it opened, sliding up into the ceiling. He slipped the screwdriver away and walked into the corridor, turning 360 on the spot to check the area as he went.

Once inside, he moved to the keypad that controlled the force-fields. He reached up and paused for a moment before entering the activation code.

With an anxiety-inducing hum, all ten of the force-fields in the corridor came to life simultaneously.

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor stepped up to the first wall of blue energy so his nose was nearly brushing against it. Blue energy crackled across the surface of the field, the intensity of the light making the Doctor wince for a moment.

He took one last look behind him. Nobody yet. But once he started, he was sure they were going to come running. The pain he was going to be in would be like wafting the smell of steak towards a hungry dog.

The Doctor held up a palm to the field, and noticed that it was shaking ever so slightly. He glared at the offending limb. That wouldn't do. Come on, hand. Letting the team down.

Muscles tensed, he pressed his palm against the blue energy, and immediately felt the urge to cry out from the fire that burned through his hand and up his forearm. Fighting the instinct to withdraw, the Doctor closed his eyes and pushed forward, groaning through clenched teeth as every inch of him was struck by lightning.

And then he was through the first barrier. He stumbled from the sudden removal of resistance, almost falling headfirst into the next field. His whole body was tingling, but not in the regeneration way. Not yet, anyway.

He shook his head. Don't think about it. Can't afford to think about it. Onwards and forwards, Geronimo, and so on.

Nine more force-fields.

Once again taking deep breaths, the Doctor shrugged his shoulders around and rubbed his hands together. He didn't know if that would actually help, but… what the hell. Pain was all in the mind, anyway, so whatever he _thought _helped _would _help. Surely.

He cleared his throat and strode into the field. This time he couldn't help the yelp that escaped him. The sudden shock of the pain caught him off-guard. And it seemed worse this time. He couldn't tell if it was the force-field itself or his resistance to it being weakened.

Whatever, it flipping _hurt_. A lot.

His knee buckled after he emerged through the other side, and he fell into a crouch, exhausted. Head hanging low, the Doctor coughed. He felt hot, and wiped some sweat from his brow.

"Blimey," he gasped, eyes clenched shut as he tried to remove the pain just through sheer concentration. That was a thing, wasn't it? Mind over matter?

Heaving himself to his feet, the Doctor found himself vocalising with every movement. His limbs were simultaneously lead weights _and_ jelly. Ah, well. Only eight more to go. Easy.

"Hope you're getting this, Colette," the Doctor murmured, holding a hand out that had a tremble to it that no amount of glaring would solve. He touched the force field and immediately withdrew it, the intense spark of energy hissing through his entire body.

"That's…" He blew out a tired breath, resting on his aching knees for a moment. "That's very painful…"

Straightening up, the Doctor looked back at the force field he had just come through. He backed up to it as close as he could manage, and then faced what was left of his, on reflection, fairly stupid plan.

"Running. I love running. I run everywhere. Why didn't I think of that before?"

He paused for a moment.

"Maybe because it's mad. _Completely _mad. Madder than 'a madman in a box' mad."

And then, the Doctor sighed. "I've exceeded myself."

With that, he dove forward, sprinting into force field number eight. He stumbled a little coming out the other side, but still managed to continue through to seven.

He tripped, but recovered.

Six.

His ankle gave out, and he hobbled along through number five. He almost fell, pushing his hand against the wall to steady himself.

Four.

This time, he fell, landing on his hands and knees. He still managed to maintain some momentum, and scrabbled his way through number three.

Lying on his side, the Doctor gasped for breath. He could smell something burning. Eyes hazy, he looked down and saw that his clothes were smoking. Running his hand through his hair confirmed that that was smoking, too. With an exhausted sigh, the Doctor rested his head against the floor, enjoying the sensation of the cool metal against his overheating skin.

"Come on, come on, come on," he chanted, eyes closed. "It's just a bit of burning. No worse than when you were the chef at the Pond barbeque party."

His eyes opened. "Ponds…"

The mere thought gave him an extra boost. Not much, but it gave him the willpower to put his hands against the floor and push as hard as his quaking arms could manage. His hands unsurely padded against the wall, giving the appearance of someone trying to feel their way out of the dark.

He glared at force-field number two. "You think you've got me beaten, don't you? Well, you don't. You're not so tough. You're just a… blue _thing_. Big and flashy and blue. And, frankly, I'm not impressed. At all. I've faced down giant robots and… other giant robots. There are other things, but they slip my mind at the moment on account of the blinding pain. But the point is…"

With a weary sigh, he shook his head. "Oh, never mind…"

Limping forward, the Doctor reached the force-field and stopped. He took another deep breath. He felt like he was doing a lot of that.

And then he pushed through number two. This one seemed to give even more resistance than the others. Or maybe he was just weaker. Yeah, probably the second one. He growled as his felt his skin burning, spittle flying from his mouth as his breathing became laboured. Why was this taking so long? Bloody flashy blue thing.

Slowly, as the resistance seemed to become stronger and stronger, the Doctor's growl turned into a full on war-cry, empowering him for the final push.

The Doctor fell to the ground face first. There was still one more left. One more. But the best he could manage was to just lie there listening to the sound of his own breathing. This was enough. Surely Colette and the others would have sensed that. He didn't need to make it through the last one. He honestly wasn't sure if he physically _could_.

Minutes passed. Nobody came.

With a frustrated groan, the Doctor propped his forehead against the floor. "All right then, fine…"

That was when the bright blue light that had bathed him promptly vanished. Opening one eye, the Doctor looked down the corridor. The force-fields were gone. All of them.

And there, stood at the far end of the corridor, was Colette. She was flanked by Michelle, who was holding Vicky by the arm, a pistol in her other hand. Even in his disoriented state, the Doctor noted that Michelle wasn't pointing the gun _at _Vicky. It was just hanging loosely by his side. So there was an element of control there.

Tim wasn't there. Helping the Doctor escape was the last thing he had done. As Colette strolled over, a supremely pleased smile on her face, the Doctor vowed that Tim's death would mean something. As much as death _could _mean anything.

She looked down at him, arms crossed in front of her like a disapproving parent. Squatting down, she leant forward, and the Doctor could see the black swirling mist that covered her eyes in great detail.

"I could feel you," she said.

"Sounds inappropriate," the Doctor grunted, managing to roll himself over so he was facing the ceiling.

She ignored his brilliant witticism, instead standing up and walking into the main chamber. "That was quite a bit of pain you put yourself through to summon us down here."

"Yes, well," he grumbled, propping himself up so he was sitting against the wall of the corridor. "Weren't exactly going to answer a phone call, were you?"

"No, I suppose not," she said idly, looking over the Eye of Harmony as she walked around it. "What was the plan? Bring us down here, and then… what? We'd walk through the force-fields to get to you? You _do _realise that I watched you enter the deactivation sequence?"

"…I do _now."_

This afforded her some small amusement, and she sauntered over to him. Once there, she knelt so that they were eye to eye. "So much for the pacifistic approach. Probably be nice to have a gun right about now, wouldn't it?"

The Doctor glanced over at Michelle, who had come closer with Vicky in tow, then back to Colette, comparing their eyes.

"Why are so willing let this thing in?" the Doctor asked quietly. "Michelle there is fighting, you can see it. Tim fought it-"

"And died for his troubles."

"Yes, but he died fighting. But you've… laid down the welcome mat. _And_ made tea. Why?"

She shrugged lazily. "I like it. I like the power, the… _control _it gives me."

"Ah, I see, okay," he said, nodding. Then he locked his eyes on Colette's, which was an odd experience considering their solid black constitution. "It's nothing to do with Rachel, then?"

For the longest moment, Colette looked like she would have broken the Doctor's neck then and there. But then she smiled, though it wasn't the sort of expression that put one at ease.

"Dad's been talking."

"He certainly has, and isn't it interesting just how _much_ he's obsessed with saving her? After all, he's still got you. Shouldn't he be grateful for that? But I suppose that's the way it goes when a father has a favourite child."

Colette's expression was frozen. The Doctor couldn't see if he was getting through, but he continued on anyway.

"Can't be easy, living with your father's love for a dead daughter. Oh, diddums," he patronised, jutting out his bottom lip. "Poor little Colette still looking for attention? So desperate for some acknowledgement that you follow him all over time and space, always being ignored, always being rated as second best to a _dead _girl. Sort of impossible to measure up, isn't it?"

This time, her face changed to an intense scowl, her jaw clenched. She brought back her hand, as though to strike him with the back of her hand. He didn't even blink as she suddenly stopped short of actually hitting him. She snorted a laugh, and then covered her mouth like a naughty child before throwing her head back in an echoing belly laugh.

"You're an idiot," she sighed.

He paused. "…right. Not quite the reaction I was hoping for."

This time it was her turn to be patronising, and she tilted her head to the side. "You have one fact right there. Rachel was my sister. But she was much, _much _more than that to me. She was my best friend. Sometimes my only friend. I'm guessing Dad told you the gory details?"

"More or less."

"Did he mention holding me back so I couldn't help her?"

He stared at her, finding it very difficult to judge dishonesty in solid black eyes. "No, he missed that bit out."

"_I _was the favourite, you moron, not Rachel. She helped him through his disease while I was succeeding at school, excelling at everything I put my mind to. And all that time, he praised me and all but ignored her. Sometimes he even hit her out of frustration with his own body. So imagine his shame when suddenly she was dead. And not just dead, but murdered _in front _of him."

His throat dry, the Doctor swallowed. "Imagine."

"So, of course, he's spent the rest of his life trying to save her, to 'atone for his sins'," she mocked, putting on a pompous voice for that last bit. Then her face abruptly dropped into a grim snarl, and she grabbed the Doctor by the lapel of his jacket. "I wanted more than anything to go with Rachel. She was my sister, my friend… and if we were going to die, we should have died together."

For a brief moment, the Doctor was in that New York graveyard again. He blinked and shook it off.

The tingling was getting distracting now. He could feel his strength coming back. And, glancing down at his scalded hands, he saw that they were healing. The regeneration virus was taking effect. But it was odd, it felt… _weaker _than a normal regeneration. He was a Time Lord, he knew how to hold it back. He _had _tohold it back until he left this… pseudo-TARDIS and got out of the virus' sphere of influence. Then it would stop. Yeah. Definitely.

In a way, the Doctor was thankful to Colette for suddenly yanking him up to his feet by the lapels of his jacket - it kept him from thinking morbid thoughts.

"Before I became…" she trailed off, thinking about how best to describe herself.

"Horrible? Nasty? Evil?"

"…_better_… I thought that you were a sanctimonious little worm. Condescending down to soldiers from the perspective of a man who'd never seen combat, who'd never even lifted a finger to fight for a cause."

She moved in close. Her breath smelt like smoke from a bonfire. "But I was wrong, wasn't I? You _do _know how to fight. You just choose not to out of some… misguided principle."

"Yes, principles," he managed, his voice constricted by the awkward way she was pressing him into the wall. "What a _drag _they are, eh?"

After a moment's pause to study his face, Colette threw him out into the main chamber. He stumbled around for a bit, struggling to regain his footing before turning it into a fumbling little dance that concluded with him whirling on his heel to face Colette.

"Fight me now," she said plainly, holding her arms out on either side as she strode towards him.

He didn't move as she approached and gave him a violent shove that left him stepping back towards the Eye of Harmony.

"Come on." Her jaw was clenched now, and she swung for him.

The Doctor rocked his upper body back so that the blow sailed past him. She tried to hit him with a left hook, which he ducked beneath, scuttling around behind her.

"Stop running away and _fight me!" _she roared, charging at him with a flurry of punches and jabs.

He back-pedalled furiously, managing to retreat from most of the blows. But he was forced to use some distant memories of Venusian aikido to block or bat away some attacks that got too close. They ended up back at the mouth of the corridor into the chamber, from where Michelle and Vicky were watching this bizarre chase. The Doctor put his hands up in front of him.

"Wait, wait, wait!" he shouted, and Colette froze with fist raised.

Dropping his arms, the Doctor gave a resigned nod. "All right. I'll fight you."

She smiled.

"But!" he added, finger in the air. "_Just _us."

He navigated the same finger to a keypad beside the entrance to the corridor, and entered a combination. On cue, the first force-field crackled to life in front of Michelle and Vicky, who both stepped back in surprise.

After walking over to the force-field and position himself so it was on his left, the Doctor watched and waited for Colette to do the same. She did so, keeping a wary eye on him as she approached. The force-field buzzed and crackled beside them.

The Doctor held out his right hand as though to shake hands. If it had been possible to do so, he was sure that Colette would have rolled her eyes.

"Thumb war," he declared proudly.

Colette studied him intently. "_What?"_

"You wanted to fight me. So, let's fight. Thumb war."

"This is ridiculous," she dismissed,

"The best you're going to get," he said, smiling dangerously. "Afraid you're going to lose?"

This elicited a smile of her own, and, after a few moments of staring, she acquiesced, and took his hand.

"All right," the Doctor began, "3015 Olympic rules, no biting or spitting. But first the opening chant of honour, all six verses. One, two, three, four, I declare a-"

She tilted her head to the side. "No. If you're going to fight me, fight me."

His smile froze, and he stared at her. "Okay."

With an abrupt surge of strength, the Doctor slammed Colette's hand into the force-field. It sparked for just a moment, and then the Doctor released his grip, backing away in a manner that mirrored Colette. She was clutching her hand, staring at it in horror.

"Not nice, is it?" he said.

"W-" She glanced from her hand to the Doctor.

"That's pain. Now, I imagine _Colette_ has felt pain before. But this new monstrosity, this… creature that _feeds _on pain, that's a different story. You said it in the console room. You've never been able to _feel _before. And what you've got there, that's just a scratch. Imagine how it would feel to _lose _that hand. To be shot, burned, blown up. Search Colette's memories. Although it's a bit hard to remember physical pain, so maybe we should talk about something else."

The Doctor deactivated the force-field, and Michelle stepped through, her grip on Vicky released. There was a hungry look in her swirling black eyes. Her expression frantic, Colette backed away from Michelle, moving around the Eye of Harmony.

The Doctor casually strolled around the other side of the Eye, talking as he went.

"That's fear you're feeling now. You see, pain isn't confined to the physical. Oh, no. There's fear and grief and despair and horror. And guilt. _That's_ a big one. A horrible, tingling, burning sensation. It plagues you, follows you everywhere."

Colette stumbled as she backed away from the rapidly approaching Michelle. She looked down at her hands. They were glowing with golden energy. The black _thing _inside her didn't seem capable of leaving. Their bond was too strong now.

"_That's _where the real gourmet food is. The stuff you _can't _see. But the difference is, you're actually _feeling _it now. And you're a hive mind, so I want you to share this with the rest of your species. Let them know what pain _feels _like, because whoa BABY are you in for a shock!"

Terrified, Colette's gaze was cleared of the blackness for the briefest of moments. And then she regenerated, screaming. But it wasn't just her that was screaming. It was the black inside her.

With a sound like shattering glass, the golden energy cascading out of her became distorted. Beams of black energy swirled and popped in the maelstrom.

Beside her, Michelle opened her mouth, eager to feed on the pain. The purest white light emanated forth, pouring out and out until, finally, the light was extinguished. Her legs gave out from beneath her, and, barely conscious, she collapsed to the floor, her gun clattering beside her. Vicky was next to her in an instant, cradling her head as they watched Colette literally, and slowly, explode.

The light from Michelle merged with the swirling tornado of golden and black energy, growing outwards. Vicky pulled a scrambling Michelle back, both of them holding up a hand to shelter their eyes from the intensity of the energy. The Doctor's vision adjusted to the brightness with much more efficiency.

Colette's form was completely gone now, having been broken down by the tornado of powerful energies. The alien scream grow higher in pitch and intensity until all three of them were covering their ears.

The storm blasted up into the roof, feeding into it continuously.

"Tell your friends to find a different food source," the Doctor shouted up after it. "Vegans have some wonderful alternatives these days!"

And then, with a surprising abruptness, the assault of sound and light just… stopped, and they were left alone in the chamber, the only sound the gentle thrum of the Eye of Harmony.

Michelle and Vicky exchanged a look, the former slowly coming back to the land of lucidity. She raised a pair of questioning eyebrows at Michelle, and she nodded, patting Vicky on the arm for reassurance.

"So…" Michelle managed, her voice hoarse as though she had been shouting for an hour straight. "…what just happened?"

The Doctor kept his gaze locked on the ceiling. "I introduced pain to an entire species that had never felt it before."

There was a moment of silence as they processed that information. Then, frowning, Vicky looked over at the Doctor.

"And… how was that better than just shooting her?"

The Doctor didn't reply. Partly because he was concentrating on suppressing the regeneration that the airborne virus was trying to force on him.

But mostly because he didn't have an answer.

* * *

(A/N: Reviews welcome. Come on. It only takes a couple of seconds. You'll enjoy it, really)


	7. A Lot of Life Before Us

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Illumination**_

_**Chapter Six: A Lot of Life Before Us**_

Michelle was _incredibly _tired. She felt like she hadn't slept in a week. Having an evil consciousness setting up camp in your brain would do that to a person. She guessed she should be thankful that she had never been a particularly bitter or angry person - that kind of stuff seemed to give whatever-it-had-been a foothold, something to work with. As it was, she had just felt like there had been a blanket smothering her senses.

Which still didn't prevent her from watching Johnny and Tim explode in front of her. It also didn't stop her remembering the pleasure the creature had taken in said deaths. She doubted that was something she would get over anytime soon.

"Doctor," Vicky asked, bringing Michelle out of her mental ramblings. "Why didn't the regeneration… thing affect you?"

The Doctor, who had since come over to them to enquire about Michelle's wellbeing, looked a little uncomfortable.

"It did."

"It…" Vicky and Michelle exchanged a glance while they both processed that. "It did?"

He nodded. "All healed up. But I'm a Time Lord. I've got experience controlling regeneration. A bit. I can hold it back until we're outside of this place and away from the virus, at which point it should stop."

"'Should'?"

"Did I say 'should'? I meant 'will'. As in 'definitely'. Always getting those mixed up."

Michelle shuffled herself into a sitting position, wincing at the dull ache in seemingly _all _of her muscles. "Then… shouldn't we be gettin' out of here before you explode? I mean, my arms are achin', should _I_ be worried?"

"We can't go yet, and no, you should be fine. It seems to be wounds that the regeneration virus responds to. You would be gone by now if that wasn't the case. And so would Locke, come to think of it."

"…good point."

"Why can't we go yet?" Vicky asked.

"Because he wants to destroy this place," a rasping voice announced. They all looked to the corridor to see Professor Locke floating into the chamber, enraptured by it. "How could you want to remove such beauty from the universe?"

"I don't," the Doctor replied, sounding insulted by the implication. He looked over at Michelle. "Can I have that?"

Confused, Michelle glanced down and saw that the Doctor was pointing at the handgun she had brought in with her.

"Uh… sure. I mean, it's… it _was _Colette's. It's not really mine to- yeah. Yeah, you can."

Nodding gravely, the Doctor scooped up the weapon and walked to the other side of the dome in the middle of the room, heading for the panel that grew out off the floor beside it.

Gun limply hanging by his side, the Doctor tapped a few instructions into the panel, and pulled a small lever. With a low metallic groan, the dome began to part along the seam that ran up the middle. Almost like an eye. A bright blue light shone forth, though nowhere near as intense as the fireworks they had just seen from Colette. This was more peaceful, soothing.

"What is that?" Locke asked wondrously.

"The Eye of Harmony," the Doctor sighed, staring into it, mesmerised. "This whole place is a living thing, and this… is its heart. The regeneration virus changes any form of life into something that can regenerate. If I injure it… this whole place goes."

"Will that damage our ship?" Michelle asked, shakily clambering to her feet. Vicky was beside her in an instant as a support, and she smiled gratefully.

He shook his head. "The regeneration virus is confined to the this complex. It'll implode and then… nothing."

With a look of profound sadness, the Doctor crouched down beside the Eye, holding his hand over the shimmering blue light. He closed his eyes as he spoke.

"I don't know if you can understand me. I'm sorry you've been like this for so long, and for the pain you're about to go through. But once it's done… you'll be free. All of your suffering will be over."

There was no reply, though the Doctor didn't particularly look like he was waiting for one. He opened his eyes and ran a hand through his hair before slowly standing up. The way he was moving, it was like _he _was the exhausted one, not Michelle.

Then he pointed the gun at the centre of the swirling blue energy.

"No!" Locke cried out, holding his hand out pleadingly as he moved over to the Doctor. "You can't. Please. _Both _of my daughters are dead now. You can't… you're murdering them both, please, let me… let me _try_, at least."

The Doctor's head dropped along with the gun. His head still hanging low, he looked at Locke with a dark, pained expression.

"I can't. _We…_ can't."

The Professor didn't look convinced. "But how do you _not_ care? This is all that's left of your people! Don't you want to know where it came from? Don't you want to save the people you told me about? The ones you lost?"

Sighing, the Doctor's shoulders sagged, and he strode over to Locke. His voice was slow, quiet, and gentle.

"A long time ago, Locke, I told someone very special to me that I could feel the world turning beneath my feet. But it's not enough to feel it. You've got to accept it, and be… _satisfied _with whatever changes you can make as you go. Time canbe rewritten. But sometimes… it shouldn't be. And every moment we spend denying that… is a mockery, an insult… to the memory of our loved ones and everything they did."

He glared down at Locke as though he had personally insulted him.

"Not me. Not my friends."

Turning on the spot, the Doctor strode with purpose to the edge of the Eye, gun raised.

His voice lowered to the barest of murmurs. "Not my Ponds."

He fired three shots into the Eye of Harmony.

The entire complex shook with each shot, like it was being hit with depth charges. The Doctor tossed the gun across the chamber in disgust before nodding to Michelle and Vicky and stalking out of the room.

Locke directed his chair to the console beside the Eye. The Doctor, who was passing him, grabbed his arm.

"Locke-"

"GET OFF ME!" he roared, frantically throwing his arm around and dislodging the Doctor's grip on him.

The Time Lord watched him go to the console, where he tried desperately to understand anything on it. Eyes locked on the floor, the Doctor turned and strode to the corridor, not once looking back.

Vicky wasn't so willing to go, and made to fetch her employer. Michelle held onto her, though in her weakened state she knew she wouldn't be able to stop her for long. The room was steadily becoming a shade of intense yellow, though Michelle couldn't tell if it was the regeneration virus or the green and blue energies of the atom and the Eye merging.

"Professor!" Vicky cried. "Please!"

But Locke was gone, intent on preserving the miracles he had found here. Michelle glanced down the corridor. The Doctor wasn't waiting, and was nearly out of sight.

"Vicky, we gotta go," Michelle said.

"But-"

"_I _need your help," she said calmly, knowing the exact words to convince her. "He doesn't."

She looked back at her, a terrible sadness in her eyes that Michelle wanted to comfort so badly. But they needed to leave. To that end, she started hobbling towards the corridor, Vicky supporting some of her weight with her arm over her shoulders. Though Michelle's eyes were focused on the other end of the corridor, she could make out Vicky checking behind her one last time.

The Doctor _was _waiting after all. They found him pacing back and forth just beside the entrance to the corridor. He moved over and braced Michelle's other arm over his shoulder. They started running as the golden energy started to move out in waves from the Eye of Harmony chamber.

Gasping for breath, Michelle cursed the weakness in her body as they continually stumbled. But as they turned a corner and emerged into the now shimmering console room, she realised that it wasn't her losing her footing; the floor was beginning to regenerate beneath their feet.

The trio tumbled out of the open door and into the cargo bay. They scrambled along to get a safe distance away.

All of them looked back to watch the pod, which was now a contained sphere of bright golden energy. Vicky and Michelle watched from their crouched positions on the floor while the Doctor slowly stood, holding a hand in front of his eyes as he edged closer.

There was a sudden surge in the intensity of the regeneration, but it was contained within the pod, becoming a glowing box of energy that became brighter and brighter. Eventually it became too much to behold, and both Vicky and Michelle turned away. The last thing Michelle saw was the Doctor, no longer shielding his eyes. He just watched as one of the few reminders left of his home flashed out of existence.

The image burned itself into her mind, and she felt a sudden urge to hold Vicky just a little tighter.

And then, it was gone, leaving nothing but silence and a slightly darker cargo bay.

Michelle slowly opened her eyes. Blinking away spots, she looked around the room. Vicky was beside her, getting to her feet. The Doctor was staring at the spot the pod had once occupied.

While Vicky helped Michelle over to a crate for her to lean against, the Doctor's gaze slowly shifted down to his hand, which he studied intently. First one side, then the other. His shoulders rose up and then sagged back down again, signifying the deep breath of relief he had taken.

"Good news, Doc?" Michelle asked.

"Hm?" He turned, looking back at her with tired eyes. "Oh… I was right about the regeneration field." To emphasise the point, he brought up his hand and waggled his fingers about.

Sighing, he turned back to where the pod had been. "I think we've all had enough of _that _for one day…"

Michelle couldn't help but agree, and reached for Vicky's hand. She squeezed it, and Vicky looked down at it and then to her, smiling with a level of relief and gratitude that made Michelle feel a little bit better about everything that had just happened.

The Doctor, meanwhile, was oddly silent, his back to them.

"Doctor? You all right?"

His head shook a little, and he rubbed his hand against his eyes before whirling on the spot, smiling politely. "Yes, good, fine. Well! That was all exciting, wasn't it? And… now it's done. And… everything. So I should…" His arms waggled about loosely before he pointed at the door. "Yeah."

Making a speedy getaway, the Time Lord strode to the opening door before either Michelle or Vicky could think of anything to say. His departure so quickly after such a maelstrom of hell was enough to take them both aback. He took the conundrum out of their hands, stopping at the door to whirl on the spot and point a finger at the two of them.

"By the way, if either of you hear of or come across anybody else trying to do something like this… give them a-"

"Kick in the ass?" Michelle finished.

"…I was going to say 'polite warning', but we all have our different styles, I suppose." He smiled, but it didn't last long, instead replaced by a searching look to both of them. "So long as you understand _why_."

Taking a moment to check with each other, Vicky and Michelle turned back to the Doctor, both of them nodding. Michelle had seen a lot of bad, _bad _things in her career as a soldier. But this had been something cold and calculating and selfish and… _completely _beyond any species in the universe.

Apparently satisfied, the Doctor smiled again. "Thank you."

He gave a big, jagged salute to Michelle, clicking his boots together. Michelle returned the gesture, but without quite so much vigour. In fact, the best she could manage was a loose, two-fingered wave.

The Doctor looked at the two of them with a certain reluctance, as though there was something he wanted to say, to ask. And Michelle knew what it was.

But then the moment passed, and the Doctor looked simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Michelle felt the same way, and she could tell from looking at Vicky that she had a similar experience. She was just grateful that the Doctor was letting them go without putting that temptation on their laps.

With the weakest of smiles, the Doctor nodded to them. "Goodbye."

He walked into the corridor, turning left. They heard his footfalls echo into the distance. They looked at each other.

"You okay?" Michelle whispered.

She nodded silently. "Yeah, just… not sure how to process-"

The footsteps in the corridor became louder, and the Doctor reappeared in the doorway.

"Sorry," he whispered, his mouth elongated horizontally in an awkward grimace. "Wrong way."

With that, he crept off to the right, his footfalls once more echoing into the distance.

They heard a wooden creak, shortly followed by a low thud. And then, the oddest grinding noise, over and over again until it gradually faded into nothingness. Dumbfounded, Michelle and Vicky just stared at the open doorway.

"So," Vicky said slowly, "what now?"

"I… honestly have no idea."

She really didn't. All she could think to do was hold Vicky close.

The way she held her back told her that that was enough for now.

"Thanks, stupid-face."

"You're welcome."

* * *

The Doctor stared at the time rotor, mesmerised as it moved him through the time vortex. He ran a comforting hand over the edge of the console, smiling.

"I'm sorry. You were probably all excited about finding another TARDIS, and then it was… something else. I know the feeling." He let out a quiet laugh. "But then, you know that, don't you, old girl?"

Feeling aimless, the Doctor wandered around the console, finally settling on collapsing into the chair on the other side. He continued to watch the time rotor, steeped in thought.

After Donna, the Doctor had vowed that he wouldn't travel with anyone else, for their sake as much as his. But without someone by his side for so long, he became trapped in his own head. He started to _think and_ _think, _allowing fear to grab his hearts. Travelling with someone reminded him that there were more important things than him, that no matter how much death frightened him, saving even a single life was worth it.

From experience, the Doctor knew that whenever he took on a companion, it was temporary. Even with those that had connected with him in a more profound way, like Sarah-Jane or Rose… he was always waiting for the day when they would decide to leave, or the decision would be taken out of their hands. Susan's departure had taught him that.

And so, with Amy, he had convinced himself that he was only interested in the mystery. Amy Pond: the girl who didn't make sense. But then Amy was safe. The cracks in the skin of the universe were gone. And the Doctor had realised, watching Amy and Rory dancing at their wedding, just how much he had been deluding himself. They were in. And he hadn't even noticed it happening.

They should have been free to pursue their own lives. But he couldn't let them go. And then, later, when he dropped them off after the Minotaur, that should have been the end. They had lost their child because of him, and yet they couldn't see it - refused to see it. Rory had, from the beginning, made his concerns about travelling in the TARDIS clear, and the Doctor knew that Amy felt it too, though she had only shown it openly once. At Demon's Run, he had gone to embrace her, to comfort her… and she had backed away from him, full of pain and sadness and anger. That look in her eyes had haunted him ever since.

After all the losses, the Time War, a Time Lord Victorious… it was that look that _really _showed him how doomed he was to repeat his mistakes. Unless he made a change.

Because it was this inability to let go, this… fear of losing them that ended up making him even more dangerous than he had ever been alone. At Demon's Run - and during the planning beforehand - he had been powered by a seemingly limitless anger that he hadn't felt quite so potently for some time. Not since the Daleks in Churchill's bunker… or the four knocks. Rage powered by fear.

Now he knew that it didn't even make a difference whether he had people around him or not - he was becoming too big, too sure of his own importance to the universe. A lesson hundreds of years in the making. So dying and removing all records of himself across the entirety of time and space seemed like a good move.

So he had thought himself safe. And he was, in a way. He knew his place in the universe, now. That was why Amy and Rory being ripped away from him stung all the more. Once upon a time he would have raged and howled and fought tooth and nail to find a way around the paradox… but now, he knew what he was. He didn't have the right to control time, to reverse death itself. It was as he had said to Amy.

He really was just a madman in a box.

But now… he wasn't sure how to go on. He wasn't sure how to enjoy himself. They had become something he truly hadn't allowed himself to have in a long time; family. Before, the only families he had had contact with had been those of his travelling companions. And they were just that. _Their _family. But Amy and Rory had come together around him. He had become a part of their familial life, and they with him.

They left a seat for him at the dinner table.

And now, without them, without the knowledge that he could visit them, see them, talk to them, laugh with them…

The universe felt… hollow. Empty. And yes, there was River, but… watching Amy and Rory fall victim to the inevitability of time only served as a harsh reminder of being in the core of the Library, handcuffed to that post, pleading with River and being helpless to save her.

He knew that River was right. He needed to travel with someone. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that he didn't want to travel _at all._ The allure just wasn't there. He had all this knowledge of incredible things to see, to do… but they all seemed… dull, and grey. Like the colour and excitement had been drained from them.

So maybe it was time to just stop. That would solve all the problems, wouldn't it? He wouldn't fall prey to all that 'Time Lord Victorious' rubbish, no-one else would get hurt because of their attachment to him… everybody wins.

He pushed up off the chair and slowly walked around the console, flicking switches and twisting dials as though his limbs were weighed down with lead. Around every corner, every step, every lever, he found a memory of the Ponds.

The Doctor set a course.

"Sorry," he whispered to the room, and everybody who had once occupied it. "I tried."

He yanked down on the lever, and the TARDIS jostled to life, taking him somewhere nobody would bother him. Where he could finally find some peace.


	8. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who._

_**Illumination**_

_**Epilogue**_

Rachel Locke filled the cup with hot water, and watched the teabag bob up and down with what she knew was a vacant look on her face. Without putting much thought into it, she began to stir, her eyes locked on the wall in thought.

It was only the start of the day, and he was already in a foul mood. She wasn't sure how to handle him when he was like this. Back when she had resolved to look after him, she had assumed that there would be some magical moment when she would know how to deal with him.

So far, no luck in that area.

"Ah! Tea! Lovely!"

Blinking, she looked over at the open kitchen window, and saw an odd young man leaning in, broad grin on his face.

"Um… yes."

"Is that for you, or…"

"No, it's… for my Dad. Sorry, who are you?"

The man in the bow-tie and tweed jacket checked over her shoulder to the door. "Ah, the illustrious Professor Locke. Heard a lot about him. Sorry, I'm the Doctor."

She nodded with a tired expectancy. "From the university…"

"Yes, exactly. Good old universities. Love them. Though they never seem to like me very much - lecturers don't appreciate being corrected on the true nature of space and time with a puppet show, apparently." He blinked. "Anyway, yes. I'm the Doctor. You are?"

"I'm-" Rachel stopped stirring long enough to approach the Doctor and offer her hand. When he shook it, she smiled. "I'm Rachel. The Professor's daughter."

"Daughter, really? Didn't know he had one."

"Two, actually," she replied, moving back to the counter to put the mug down. "But she's away at the moment."

"So you're looking after him."

She sighed. "As much as he'll let me."

"Bit of a handful, I take it."

"He doesn't…" She stopped to think how best to explain. "It's not his fault. He's been through so much, and… sometimes he can't see the wood for the trees, if you know what I mean."

With a wistful smile, the Doctor nodded. "Vaguely, yeah."

She gave him a curious look, but he didn't give an inch.

"I'm sure he appreciates it," he said.

Rachel stopped stirring. "You know, it's so nice to hear somebody actually say that."

"Well, making people better. Part of the whole… Doctor thing," he dismissed with a smirk, wafting his hand around vaguely. "What about your sister? Surely she helps when she's around?"

She couldn't help the tiny scoff that escaped her. "No, sorry, I didn't mean to laugh then. She's very busy at universities and… she's making Dad proud."

"And…" He ducked his head down tentatively. "…you're not?"

Her gaze whipped over to him, ready to be offended. But there was such a genuine sympathy in the man's eyes, a sense of understanding. She sighed, her shoulders relaxing.

"Sometimes I feel that way, yes. But then… it passes."

"Always does," the Doctor said quietly, his eyes slowly scanning the kitchen like a surveyor. "And you love them, of course."

"Of course," she replied dryly. Then, after a moment's pause, she smiled and nodded. "I really do. For all the difficulty they have returning it, I _do_ love them."

Rachel returned her focus to fishing out the teabag as the Doctor replied.

"Good. That's important. Maybe the most wonderful thing in the universe, being loved."

She frowned at the sudden philosophical turn the conversation had taken. "Sorry, you're Doctor _who, _exactly?"

But he was gone. Abandoning the teabag to drift in the mug, Rachel went to the window. She poked her head out. Both ends of the street were clear. There was an odd noise echoing from somewhere, like an engine struggling to start. It didn't take long to fade into the distance.

Shaking her head, Rachel moved back inside and returned to the tea.

"Bizarre man."

* * *

(A/N: Now go watch 'The Snowmen' again. Quickly, before new episodes start airing.

Well, thanks for reading, everyone. And for the reviews. Doesn't matter how many there are, they're always appreciated.

So yeah, thanks again!)


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